Second Chances
by BadWolfRising
Summary: Coal Valley is a town of second chances. See Abigail Stanton overcome numerous obstacles - including a kidnapping - to get her second chance. Formerly titled: Season's Endings, New Beginnings. (Picture courtesy of Crown Media & Hallmark Channel) PLEASE READ & REVIEW.
1. Chapter 1

**SEASON'S ENDINGS, NEW BEGINNINGS**

**DISCLAIMER: The characters within are the property of the Hallmark Channel & Crown Media pictures. All credits are to be given to Brian Bird, Michael Landon Jr., Janette Oke, and all responsible for When Calls the Heart. These characters are not mine – I'm just playing with them and will put them back (relatively) unscathed when I am finished.**

**Chapter One: Thoughts & Ruminations**

It was a cool, crisp morning in Coal Valley. The air had the usual pungent smell of fresh fir, mountain wind, and coal dust. The birds were a bit quieter than normal – as if sensing the thoughtfulness and pensive moods of some of the inhabitants. But the sun rose as it normally did – bright and penetrating the chill of the early morning. And the miners quietly left their homes, kissed their loved ones, and went into the mines.

Abigail Stanton was sitting at one of the tables in her café, a cup of tea in her hand. But it was as though she had completely forgotten about it and the biscuit that was quickly chilling on her plate. Her hair was pulled up neatly into her normal chignon, highlighting her striking cheekbones. Gone was the little bit of makeup that she had been using to "freshen" up her appearance and the softness of a new hairstyle had disappeared, yielding to the harsh practicality of an easy updo.

She couldn't stop thinking about the ring on the desk and the picture of the woman and child placed so prominently in Bill Avery's room. Who were they? She wondered. How did they fit in his life? And why was he not wearing the ring? Was he cut from the same cloth as Henry Gowen, cruel and manipulative to achieve his own ends?

She really didn't know. And her experience of men had really been so limited – she had met Noah, fell in love, and married. Then she had Peter. She never really thought she would have to think about even the remote possibility of having a serious friendship with a man that could lead to courtship.

This was all new territory. And she felt uncertain and afraid. Even more so since the disastrous meeting where Gowen had brutally accused Noah of being responsible for the deaths of 46 men. She knew it was all lies and she had been fairly certain the townsfolk had known that too.

But they were all too afraid – except for Florence and a couple others – to make a public stand with Abigail. Gowen's iron fist clutched too tightly around the throat of the town. He owned their homes, her café, the mine – in essence the whole town. She understood why they couldn't make a stand against him and support her – but, at the same time, her heart ached.

The lack of support from old friends hurt bitterly. Especially with Cat Montgomery. Cat, of all people knew and understood what it was like to come under severe scrutiny and misjudgment. Of all of her friends, Abigail thought Cat would understand. But Cat, like so many others, had mouths to feed and couldn't risk the wrath of the man that held their lives in his hand.

She looked around the empty café. It was going on the second day now with hardly any customers. This couldn't continue much longer or else Gowen would take the whole café over. And Abigail could not let that happen. Gowen would not take another piece of Coal Valley if she could help it!

As for Bill? She really didn't know.

He was a stranger, after all. They were acquaintances, at best, getting to know one another. Abigail really couldn't blame him for being tight-mouthed. He probably thought of this interlude in Coal Valley as just that – an interlude. There was no permanence in the life he led, going from one assignment to another, sometimes within short periods of time.

But, at the same time, there was something in the way he looked at her. Something in the way his blue eyes smiled when he saw her, even if the rest of his face was serious. Abigail was almost too afraid to put a name to the fragile emotion in those eyes, lest it shatter and blow away on the wind that swept from the mountains. She knew it was something good.

And when he boldly declared that he would stop at nothing to get justice for her, her departed loved ones, and the other families who had been split in two, her heart jumped. So long had she waited to hear those words – so long had she been aching for someone to pick up the fight and do what she could not do.

Women had somewhat limited options in what they could accomplish – especially when going up against a rich and powerful man like Henry Gowen. Not only that but she had seen first-hand how ruthless and vicious he could be when he was crossed. Oh, he might put on a smile for the world but underneath he was a deadly cobra, get too close and he would bite. And most likely that bite would be fatal.

Bill had swept into her life like another fresh breeze of hope – opening her eyes to a real possibility of a life free from Gowen's grip. And having the feeling of real hope – even only for a moment – strengthened her resolve.

Oh, she had her close friends that had supported her – like Elizabeth and Constable Thornton. Abigail thought fondly about her dear friend, so young, so full of passion for the children, for justice – even if she couldn't really bake all that well. And then there was Jack Thornton, deeply kind and devoted to the town and Elizabeth, even though he was not always very good at speaking about things close to his heart.

And, truth be told, he did have a tendency to stick his foot into his mouth on a semi-regular basis. Abigail chuckled to herself as she remembered the infamous deer and skunk conversation when Jack was having so many difficulties talking to Elizabeth about that rascal, Billy Hamilton. It was _so_ clear to her that he was completely smitten – the poor man just didn't know how to go about wooing her friend.

Despite those solid friendships and Jack's determination to investigate the cause of the mining disaster, Bill's appearance had given Abigail her first real solid hope. Jack had an ally now – someone who specialized in these types of investigations. She remembered a verse from the Bible: _"__Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. __For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, For he has no one to help him up."1_

Abigail had faith that things would work out to the good. She just wasn't sure how and when. And that was disheartening, especially in the face of such opposition.

Trying to distract herself, she took a sip of her tea – now tepid – and made a face. She disliked tepid tea. And still there were no customers… what on earth was she going to do?

She turned to walk back to the kitchen, her heart heavy and worried.

Bill Avery stepped away from the carriage as Jedediah Black, the visiting circuit judge, strode into the saloon. He caught several admiring (and curious looks) from some of the single and widowed women of the town. A tall man in his late forties, Bill was still in his prime, having kept fit by days in the saddle with the Mounties. He had eyes the color of the sky on a clear autumn day and his hair was the color of harvest wheat.

His face was somber. Despite the light joking between Jedediah and himself, he wasn't always quite sure what to make of the man. They didn't necessarily see eye to eye on the appropriate ways of handling egregious miscarriages of justice – but maybe, Bill reflected, that would be a good thing in this case. He trusted Black to be fair, for the most part, even if his methods were somewhat unorthodox.

Bill was also a very observant man. He didn't miss the look between the judge and Henry Gowen. If he wasn't mistaken, there was some history there. He wasn't sure how much history and whether the men knew each other personally but there was something. And that was an unknown factor he hadn't considered. And unknown factors worried him.

In his experience, unknown factors meant trouble with a capital T. But maybe he was just boxing at shadows. And the last thing he needed to seek out, after the beating he received at the hands of his "unknown" assailants, was more trouble. He didn't particularly want to get stitched up again, even though his "doctor" had been an exceptionally attractive and smart woman.

He was fairly certain Black would conduct the trial fairly, even if he had prior history with Gowen.

Nothing I can do about it now, Bill told himself. Maybe it was time to seek out some more coffee and the company of one Abigail Stanton, with whom he was very intrigued.

Bill had to admit, Mrs. Stanton wasn't what he expected when he arrived in Coal Valley. He wasn't sure what exactly he _was_ expecting but he knew that Abigail hadn't fit his expectations. And he also wasn't sure whether that was an entirely good thing or not. And that was another thing that troubled him – Bill wasn't used to being unsure about things.

He was used to collecting solid pieces of evidence or data. Something concrete, tangible. Things he could wrap his head around. Mrs. Stanton was a whole different subject. Hopefully, this uncertainty was a passing thing and would disappear as soon as his time in Coal Valley was through.

That must be it. Just a temporary distraction. He ignored the little voice telling him how fine a distraction she was.

Putting his ruminations aside, he opened the door to Abigail's Café and went inside.

1Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, NKJV


	2. Chapter 2

**SEASON'S ENDINGS, NEW BEGINNINGS**

**DISCLAIMER: The characters within are the property of the Hallmark Channel & Crown Media pictures. All credits are to be given to Brian Bird, Michael Landon Jr., Janette Oke, and all responsible for When Calls the Heart. These characters are not mine – I'm just playing with them and will put them back (relatively) unscathed when I am finished.**

NOTE: Quotes that have ** next to them indicate dialogue from the actual TV show. **

**Chapter Two: Confrontation?**

It was quiet in Abigail's Cafe. You could almost 'hear' the silence. The only indication that there was any individual in there was the soft clink of a tea-cup from Abigail's kitchen and a soft sniffle. Otherwise, the only sounds that could be heard were the wagons passing by the windows and the chatter of people walking and talking.

Bill could smell the brew of coffee but guessed that little – if any – had been consumed since no one was in the cafe and it had been open for a couple hours. He could smell the flowers that he had brought for Abigail just a day or so ago.

Abigail stepped through the door from the kitchen.

"Mr. Avery." She said politely, if not warmly. "What brings you in today?"

"Abigail," he responded, "I would very much like some of your biscuits."

She started to turn back towards the kitchen. "It may take a few minutes. I didn't have many visitors this morning, as you can see." She turned to smile tightly back at him.

Most men and women wouldn't have noticed anything amiss, but Bill discerned a change in manner from the way Abigail had been over the past couple of days. His eyes noted the change in hairstyle from the more relaxed style of the past week and there were circles under her eyes and a decided tension in her demeanor. He started to walk towards her.

"Abigail..." he started to say.

"I'm fine – I can take care of things." she said, with a cheery tone. "Why don't you be seated?"

Bill started to disobey – and then changed his mind when recalling an old adage about catching flies with honey.

Abigail busied herself, preparing the biscuit dough, absent mindedly mixing in the ingredients. Why was he here? She thought. Surely, he knew by now that I had seen the ring and the photograph. Why isn't he saying anything? She pulled herself up firmly.

Now, Abigail, she reminded herself. Weren't you the one always cautioning about misjudging people? Don't fall into the trap of jumping to the worst conclusion – didn't you tell Elizabeth that _things aren't always as they seem_?

She put her biscuits in the oven and went to prepare the coffee.

Bill couldn't put his finger on what was different with Abigail. Oh, he could see the superficial differences, like the abrupt change in her hair. He had been an investigator for so long, he could not look at changes without speculating about the reason. His eyes narrowed; why the change bothered him so much, he didn't know.

Why should he care? He wouldn't be in Coal Valley for much longer. Why bother getting invested with a person he would probably never see again after this case had concluded? If he wasn't careful, Bill concluded, he might find himself actually really caring about this woman with a spine of tempered steel. Remembering the story of her going into the mine, his serious face broke into a smile.

That's one special lady.

Finally, the biscuits were ready. Nervously, Abigail placed them on a plate and brought them out to Bill along with a pot of hot coffee.

"Here you are," she said, "please enjoy. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to let me know." She gave a cordial but tight smile and turned to walk back to the kitchen.

"Abigail," Bill began, "please. Sit with me."

Abigail schooled her features to be civil. But, deep inside, she was afraid. Afraid of hearing unpleasant truths. Afraid of faint hopes flickering being quenched. Afraid of being given the slightest hope that her interest was reciprocated.

Foolish, she told herself. Don't be a chicken.

"Certainly," she told him, "what are your plans for the day?"

"Well," he took a sip of his coffee, "I need to prepare for the trial. And I need to return to the mine and see if I can collect evidence to replace the evidence that was stolen from me by Gowen's goons."

"Aren't you concerned they'll strike again?" Abigail asked.

"Slightly," he smiled, "I'd be a fool if I wasn't concerned. But I'm prepared a bit better now."

"Should I even ask?" Abigail smiled faintly.

"You could but I might not answer. Mounties have to have some secrets." Bill smiled in return.

Despite the warmth Abigail felt from his smile, she shivered. **_Mounties have to have some secrets._ __**

She stood up, "This has been indeed pleasant, Mr. Avery, but is there anything else I can get for you? I need to get...busy." She felt slightly ashamed for telling such a fib. No one had entered the cafe since Bill and it did not appear as if anyone else – save perhaps Jack or Elizabeth - would be coming in that day. 

"Abigail," Bill looked at her very seriously. "Is there something wrong?"

"Well, besides losing my business and potentially my home?" She smiled cheerfully, but with fear in her eyes. "Nothing more than normal."

Bill looked at her closely. "That I can certainly understand. But know _**this**_, Abigail," he said, "Remember what I said to you the day we met? _** ****__I am here to build a case against the Pacific Northwest Mining Company for unsafe conditions that led to the tragic deaths of 46 men, including your husband and your son.** _I meant what I said. I fully intend to get justice for you and the families of the men who died and to make Gowan pay for letting those men go into a mine when conditions were so hazardous."

Abigail's eyes filled and she turned away quickly to hide the tears.

"Abigail," he said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Trust me."

In her heart, Abigail felt, despite what she saw in Bill Avery's room, that he was an honorable man. He obviously had his secrets and, until he was ready to talk about them, she didn't want to push.

She felt at a loss for words. A large part of her wanted to ask: _**Who are you? Who are the people in that photograph? **_But the more sensible part of her held back. She told herself firmly: _**You will know when the time to talk about such things is near. That time is not now. In the mean time, do NOT assume the worst.**_

Abigail smiled, "Thank you, Bill."

He looked at her, a kind warmth in his eyes. Abigail looked at him, with lines deeply carved into his forehead, flecks of grey in his wheat-colored hair, and had another quick thought.

_**I might be in big trouble.  
**_


	3. Chapter 3

**SEASON'S ENDINGS, NEW BEGINNINGS**

**DISCLAIMER: The characters within are the property of the Hallmark Channel & Crown Media pictures. All credits are to be given to Brian Bird, Michael Landon Jr., Janette Oke, and all responsible for When Calls the Heart. These characters are not mine – I'm just playing with them and will put them back (relatively) unscathed when I am finished.**

NOTE: Quotes that have ** next to them indicate dialogue from the actual TV show. **

_****__**Chapter Three: In Which Bill Has Questions **_

Bill Avery took the last sips of his coffee and put on his hat. He smiled reassuringly at Abigail as he left the café. He could tell that something was troubling her deeply – the comfort and relaxation that had been part of their growing friendship had disappeared. She looked strained and unhappy.

Jack had told him about the disastrous meeting where Gowen had accused Noah Stanton of deliberately leading men into the mine, while knowing that conditions were unsafe. Bill was sure this was not the case – his instinct told him that, once again, Gowen was casting blame on the wrong party to cover up his own wrong-doing. Unfortunately, Bill had only his instinct – at this point – to tell him that Gowen was pulling another dirty trick.

He was angered on Abigail's behalf, especially when he heard (again, from Jack) the reactions of the townspeople to Gowen's revelations. However, having met and spoken with many of the people of the town, he wasn't very surprised that they would do this. He had seen this before – Company men ruling towns with fists so hard that no one dared to make any criticism or go against them without fear of huge repercussions.

While this situation explained the tension and strain in Abigail at the moment, it didn't quite explain her formality and slight chill towards him. That he was puzzled about and was determined to find out the answer. Mysteries bothered him – and so did his growing fondness for the lovely lady who ran that café. He was finding that she had a rather disturbing way of affecting him in a way no woman had since... well... no use stirring up old memories and old pain.

He had a stop to make.

Jedidiah Black looked out the window at the small coal town. He had been to many places in his 40 year career in the law and a few similar to this. Many of those small towns also had a surplus of harsh taskmasters, like Henry Gowen. He shook his head. This was going to be an uphill battle.

He knew of Gowen's reputation. It wasn't a good one. Coal Valley was not the first town where there had been rumors of wrong-doing and negligence on the part of the Pacific Northwest Mining Company. Unfortunately, like this one, in the previous towns there had been a decided lack of evidence. And, in the majority of those towns, there was a very short witness list.

Most, if not all, of the people were too afraid to speak up. If the trial was decided in favor of the plaintiff (which happened often), those who were on the wrong side often lost their jobs, their homes, and sometimes their families and their lives. It made for an absurdly unbalanced trial – and oftentimes Jedidiah had been forced to rule in favor of the plaintiff, simply due to lack of concrete evidence and paperwork.

It was unfortunate but that was the way the law worked.

Jedidiah knew he couldn't rule based on rumors, innuendo, and speculation. If there wasn't a solid enough case, he would have to rule in favor of Gowen. As much as he despised it.

He knew men like Gowen. Ruthless men. Men who cared more for money and profit than safeguarding the life of their employees. Men who were willing to eke every drop of blood out of a worker to make sure the bottom line was met. He met men like Gowen every day – usually playing poker – and the slimy weasels were willing to do just about anything to win. Even at cards.

Jedidiah was an honorable man and fair. He just knew that Gowen played outside of the rules. And if there was some way that he could nail this man's hide to the wall, he'd do it. But Jedidiah's respect for the law went beyond his personal feelings and instinct; as much as he despised cheaters and robber barons, he wouldn't compromise his integrity – or the law – to bring him to justice.

But if there was solid proof of wrong-doing of _any _kind - if he received substantial proof that the negligence of Gowen and his cronies had led to the deaths of 46 innocent men– Jedidiah Ezekiel Nathaniel Black would be the one to made sure he hung from a high gallows.

In the meantime, he would just have to wait and see what the day – and the evening – would bring.

"Give me some whiskey, " he told the barkeep, "straight up."

"Still drinking the hard stuff, aren't you, Judge Black?" A familiar voice rang by his ear. "Inspector Avery," Black retorted, "in the middle of the thick of things as usual."

"You know me, Judge," Avery responded. "I go where I'm needed."

"You know I really can't discuss the particulars of this case," Black warned him. "I'm supposed to be impartial. Lady Justice bein' blind and all that." "I understand." Avery responded. "However, I should make you aware of some things."

Black turned and glared at him, "What part of no-discussing-this case didn't you understand, son? You realize that if Gowen's lawyer even THINKS I've been havin' secret meetings with you, I could get my rear in trouble and this trial would be over before it even started. "

Avery watched him steadily. "My purpose is not to sway you to one side or another. I want to tell you that Gowen has been intimidating witnesses. You know that's not right."

Black eyed him with a bit of suspicion. "D'you have proof of this?" "Hearsay only."

"Dangnabit, Avery, you're tyin' my hands here!" Black barked. "I can tell you this," Bill responded, " on my way out of the mine one night, after collecting evidence, I

was set upon by some ruffians and given a good knock on the head. I was fairly groggy but I remember noticing their boots. I noticed later those were the same boots that Gowen's Pinkerton folks wear."

"Suspicious," Black admitted, "but circumstantial at best. From what I understand, these people are facin' losin' their homes or their jobs. Might be motive enough for them to stop you."

"Can miners afford those fancy Pinkerton boots?" Avery retorted. "I rather doubt it."

"Settle down, Inspector. I ain't taking sides here. Impartial, remember? Look, I get that yer frustrated. Heck, I understand it. I deal with these kinda folks all the time. I make enemies out of 'em on a regular basis!

Bill nodded, his eyes cool. "I'll prove that Gowen is a lying snake." Black studied his face, "Do you have a vested interest in this, son?"

Avery thought for a moment, his face very serious. "I simply want to see justice done. 46 men are dead, Judge. And they should NOT have died in that mine. I know that for a fact but the evidence I collected was taken from me the night I was attacked."

Black understood. "Git me some more concrete evidence, son. I caint do anything to help you otherwise."

Bill tipped his hat. "Thanks for listening, Judge. As always, it's been a real pleasure. I'm still waiting on my money."

"Like I done told you before, you whippersnapper – you'll be waitin' a long time."

"Good afternoon, Abigail!" a clear voice rang from the doorway.

Abigail turned in delight, "Elizabeth! What brings you in this time of day?"

Elizabeth Thatcher, the charming young school teacher, came to greet her friend with a warm smile and a hug. "Do I need to have a reason to visit a friend?"

"Of course not," Abigail smiled, "you are most welcome. And," she noticed with a grin, "I must say, you have been glowing all day. Is that due to a mutual friend of ours?"

"Perhaps," Elizabeth smiled shyly, turning a bright pink. "Well, it's about time that young man made a move."

Elizabeth smiled, even more widely. "Oh, that's the way of it, then?" Abigail nodded knowingly.

"I think so. Oh, Abigail, I like him so much!" "Well, of course you do, I could have told you that back in the day when you were at each other's throats half the time. I knew Constable Thornton had the desire to be courtin' you." Abigail grinned at her young friend. "How on earth did YOU know when I didn't?" Elizabeth asked. "Because, my dear," Abigail responded, "**_I am emotionally invested in your well-being_.**"

Abigail was a bit startled when Elizabeth burst into laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

**SEASON'S ENDINGS, NEW BEGINNINGS**

**DISCLAIMER: The characters within are the property of the Hallmark Channel & Crown Media pictures. All credits are to be given to Brian Bird, Michael Landon Jr., Janette Oke, and all responsible for When Calls the Heart. These characters are not mine – I'm just playing with them and will put them back (relatively) unscathed when I am finished.**

NOTE: Quotes that have ** next to them indicate dialogue from the actual TV show. **

_**CHAPTER FOUR: Revelations **_

Abigail stared at her young friend in confusion. "What did I say?"

Elizabeth chuckled, "When Julie was out here for her visit, she said the exact same thing shortly before my first official 'date' with Jack."

"Well, you know, Elizabeth," Abigail said slowly, with a smile, "great minds do think alike." Elizabeth and Abigail both burst into laughter.

When they had settled down a bit, Abigail poured Elizabeth some tea and they sat down at a table. As the day wore on, save for Bill and Jack (earlier in the morning), the café continued to sit empty.

Elizabeth twinkled at her friend, "So, how is your friend, Mr. Avery?" "I really don't know, Elizabeth, "Abigail confessed, her smile disappearing.

"I noticed that you didn't have your hair styled in that new fashion that is so becoming." Elizabeth looked at her friend keenly, noticing the hints of strain in her face. "Abigail, what's wrong?"

Abigail looked down at her cup of chamomile-lavender tea, hesitant.

"Abigail," Elizabeth said softly and with great concern, "You know I won't say a word."

Hesitantly, Abigail explained. "Mr. Avery asked me to get the witness list for him to give to the judge. I had to go into his saddlebags to get it – they were lying on the bed. I was going to leave the room when I saw a photograph on the nearby desk. I didn't snoop," she said hastily, lest her young friend get the wrong idea and think she was a nosy gossip, "but he had a photograph of himself with a young woman and a boy! Not only that but I saw a wedding ring as well. What am I supposed to think?"

Elizabeth thought a moment. "Well," she said, "I agree that it doesn't look good but...do you remember what you told me about Jack? **_Things may not be what they seem. Jack has always seemed to be honorable.** _I wouldn't assume the worst quite yet. I cannot see Bill being a villain after the way he has treated you. I could always talk to Jack and see if he knows anything..."

"No," Abigail said, with a faint smile, "I don't think we need Constable Jack on the case quite yet. You're right. There's probably a very good explanation. I think I just may be afraid to hear it."

"Because you're starting to have feelings for him," Elizabeth observed shrewdly.

Abigail started to deny it and then grinned ruefully. "I rather think that I am. And that worries me. What if I have feelings for a married man? That's not proper! I'm not that type of person at all."

"I know that," Elizabeth replied soothingly, "and so does everyone else. I'm sure that things will sort themselves out, given time."

"I am sure you're right, Elizabeth." Abigail said, "But, you forget, this is just a temporary stop for him. At the end of this trial, this investigation, he's going to go back."

Elizabeth could only look at her in sympathy. "Well, you know you have all my support." "I do know that," Abigail smiled, "and I appreciate it more than you can ever know."

"And, may I just add," Elizabeth said, grinning, "that if Mr. Avery does not realize what a great person you are, he is not as smart a man as I had previously thought.

Abigail blushed and smiled. "Don't be silly, Elizabeth."

The chime rang softly across the door and both Abigail and Elizabeth looked up.

Constable Jack Thornton stepped into the room, handsome in his red serge. "Abigail," he nodded a greeting to her. "Elizabeth," he grinned – a big smile across his face.

Abigail was pleased to see Elizabeth turn bright red. "How are you today?" He asked both of them.

"I'm wonderful, thank you, Jack." Elizabeth was a nice shade of _scarlet _red. Abigail was simply having too much fun watching her young friend get giddy over Constable Thornton and almost forgot to answer Jack's question.

"I'm doing well, Jack, thank you for inquiring." After exchanging a heartfelt gaze with Elizabeth, he turned to look seriously at Abigail.

"I'm sorry about what happened the other night at that meeting. Gowen was out of line and I want you to know that no one who matters believes a single word of what he said. He's not telling the truth and we'll prove these scurrilous allegations to be false."

Abigail was touched. "I'm grateful for your support, Jack. But I'm afraid that the rest of the town may not feel the same way you do."

"They're scared." He pointed out, "They've been living under Gowen's thumb for so long, they're too afraid to do anything publicly to draw his attention to them. But I want you to know that I have been talking to many people and most of them know that Gowen is lying."

Abigail smiled sadly, "I suppose I should be grateful for that, at least."

Jack put his hand on her shoulder. "We will prove Noah's innocence, Abigail, I promise you that."

He turned again to face both of them, "Now, can someone tell me WHY Rosemary is still in town?"

Elizabeth had her _I-really-don't-want-to-talk-about-That-Woman _face on and Abigail nearly laughed out loud.

"Apparently," Elizabeth said brusquely, "she is going to help set up a theatre group for the children." Jack was flabbergasted. "I thought she was going back home!"

"We were both mistaken, it seems." Elizabeth told him, "Jack, she's really not going to let you go that easily."

"Actually," Jack told her, "Rosemary came to see me briefly..." before Elizabeth could get upset, he held up one hand, "ONLY for a moment, Elizabeth. She told me that she was letting it go. I told her that there was nothing between her and me any longer – and that I wanted to pursue a relationship with _you_. "

Jack held her hand tightly, "Remember what I told you on our walk, Elizabeth. **_You're the one, you're the __**only **__one.**_"

Abigail cleared her throat, feeling a little _de trop_. "I'll be right back. Jack, would you like your usual?"

He smiled, while looking at Elizabeth, "That would be wonderful, Abigail. Thank you."

Abigail moved toward the back, feeling a sharp ache in her heart. She was truly happy for Elizabeth, that her friend had found companionship and love (albeit unspoken) with Constable Thornton. He truly was a honorable man, she thought, and a true friend. Now, if only he could convince that woman to move back to New York...

While she was delighted for both Jack and Elizabeth, her growing friendship with Bill Avery made Abigail realize how much she missed having the companionship of a man in her life. The moments spent with Bill had made her feel as alive as she had when she first opened the café and saw the long line of people waiting to be served.

With all the uncertainty stemming from the fallout of that disastrous meeting with Gowen, Abigail was beginning to feel adrift again, purposeless. The café had given her a sense of purpose and direction after the loss of her husband and son. And Bill Avery had started to become someone on which she could rely. And, frankly, she was frightened for his safety after his recent attack.

She cared for him, despite the discovery in his room. _Please, Lord, _she thought, _please let him be the man of honor I think he is. And please protect him. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: _Ruminations & Revelations_**

Bill Avery was tired.

And his head hurt.

Those goons Gowen used had some force to their punches. His ribs ached, his head hurt, and he was disturbed by his conversation with Judge Black. Black was a fair man – he knew that – but he was troubled by what he said both in the saloon and near the stagecoach.

Bill was realistic – he knew there was a strong possibility that Gowen would have it so that the evidence of his wrong-doing would disappear into thin air. This would mean that convicting him and his thugs would be impossible.

For the first time in a while, Bill felt tired. He wasn't as young as he used to be and his bones ached. Ached from days in the saddle, ached from the blows from Gowen's hired hands, ached from just getting old. Maybe, he though, just maybe it was time to think of retiring and settling down. Somewhere peaceful, where he could smell the mountain air, and feel the crisp air blow through harvest wheat.

If only he could. If only he had someone with whom to share a peaceful retirement.

He entered his room, intending to take a rest. He smiled; Abigail would probably think him an old geezer, needing a nap in the afternoon like a growing teenager. The thought of the gracious Mrs Stanton made something in him soften and the afternoon sun illuminated the smile on his face. 

Wait...Abigail...

He remembered telling her to get the witness list out of his saddlebags. He looked over to the desk – could she have seen...? He winced as he saw his wedding ring laying out in prominent view, near the photograph that he always carried with him. He rubbed his chin and frowned.

If she had seen that... it might explain the odd tension he could sense from her this morning. He went over and picked up the photograph and ran his fingers across the surface. Maybe it was time to talk .He scratched his vest – the thought of opening up to someone again, for the first time in years, tore at him. Was it a betrayal? He wasn't sure.

All he knew was that being alone wasn't satisfying anymore. The nights were dark, cold, and lonely without companionship. Sitting across from Abigail at one of the cafe tables, walking with her to deliver a basket, that made him feel as alive as he did when solving one of his cases – when bringing an evil-doer to justice.

What would they have wanted?

Deep pain filled his eyes as he found himself back in the past. He sat on the bed, holding the picture, running his fingers over the glass. 

He missed his Mary. And John, wonderful, precocious, intelligent, John. John who had wanted so badly to follow in the footsteps of his father and become a Mountie too. Oh, the questions he would ask. Always so curious.

10 years now and the pain never seemed to go away completely. 

He felt for Abigail.

More than anyone, he understood what it was like to lose loved ones before their time. He remembered the look of pain in her eyes when they had first talked about her husband and son.

(Flashback)

**_"To have lost him and your son, it's unspeakable."** _Bill looked at Abigail, who was struggling to keep her composure.

** "_And yet I speak of it so often."** _She responded softly, her smile forlorn and sad.

(End flashback)

He remembered wanting to comfort her, to take away some of the pain that he recognized from seeing it in his own eyes whenever he would stand in front of the mirror to shave. He wanted to tell her that he understood, that he had been through it before. And he knew that no amount of cliched sympathies expressed by well-meaning friends would ever take away the pain of having to bury someone too soon.

And yet he kept silent, waiting for her to open up in her own time. He could sense her initial discomfort of opening up to a complete stranger about something so intensely personal. And he understood that. It had been years since he had told anyone about Mary and John – even Jack, with whom he was more or less good friends – did not know the full story. Jack only knew that Bill had suffered an unspeakable tragedy when he was younger.

Bill was a very private man. Until he knew someone and had gauged their character and trustworthiness, he was reluctant to reveal anything private or personal. He was too used to seeing unwise confidences exploited and twisted to suit the ends of someone else. He hadn't been willing to risk that – even with someone as apparently guileless and good as Abigail.

He recalled the stories that some people had told him about Noah Stanton, of his gestures of kindness, his responsibility, his care for his men. And it infuriated him that he had been unable to stop Gowen from tearing into Abigail, destroying her sense of peace and security, threatening her safety and alienating her from her treasured friendships.

When Gowen made those slimy innuendos about 'hurting Mrs. Stanton', Bill had been so angry he had actually lost control and grabbed the cretin by his jacket. How he wanted to give the man a thrashing that he would never forget.

He sighed and realized that he was beginning to care more for the courageous lady in the cafe than he had thought was possible. It was time for secrets to come out. Despite the risk. Despite the fact that she might not care for him the way he was beginning to care for her.

Time to start living the life he wanted. It wasn't too late for a second chance at happiness. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: KIDNAPPED**

Henry Gowen was furious. 

Of all the people, Jedidiah Black had to show up in _his _town. Oh, he wasn't too worried about getting convicted but Black was known to be exceptionally hard on people that "bent" the law. And he had dealt with corrupt company men particularly harshly.

This "investigation" should never have gotten this far. If it weren't for that interfering do-gooder of a Mountie, his pal Inspector Avery, and that obnoxious Abigail Stanton, this would have been nipped in the bud a long time ago. They were just not getting the message.

This was _his_ town. Forget the Company he worked for – it was _his _mine, _his _town, _his _cafe, _his _houses. And they had the unmitigated gall to think they could take him on and get away with it? Not while he was still in charge. And Jedidiah Black would not find one lick of evidence to convict him. Thanks to his vigilant security and several late nights burning incriminating documents.

It didn't matter to Gowen that he had knowingly sent those miners into hazardous conditions. It would have cost too much to properly ventilate the mine, since it would have required several days to make sure the proper equipment was installed to insure that the air was flowing around freely enough – and that methane was not building up to unsafe levels. He couldn't just let the mine shut down for a few days.

Time was money. And time spent not making money was time wasted. He didn't have the time nor the manpower to check every detail on daily operations. What mattered was the coal.

And that idiot Stanton...what a thorn in his side. Gowen knew perfectly well that Stanton had nothing to do with the deaths of the men – in fact, Noah had written Gowen repeatedly about the increasing danger from the rising methane levels. Gowen had those letters tucked safely away in his safe – only he and a select few on his security force knew the combination.

Some might call him foolish for not getting rid of the evidence. But Gowen knew he could manipulate what was written in those letters to make it appear that Noah was the culprit behind the deaths of the miners. No one would question it if the evidence was in Stanton's own handwriting. And he had planned on using that information to destroy Abigail – that interfering busybody.

But, no, that wasn't enough. Abigail Stanton was not getting the message. And with her out of the way, off the witness list, Thornton's and Avery's case would fall completely apart. No one else in that town was daring enough to stand up to Gowen and his men. Mrs. Stanton was the only one he had still be unable to intimidate, despite the 'bombshell' he had dropped the other night.

Oh, he had spread enough poison to create doubt in a majority of the townspeople. But he knew that there were a few very vocal ones still refusing to turn their backs on Mrs. Stanton. And that Gowen could not have.

Mrs. Stanton would have to be, if not permanently eliminated, moved to a secure location until Gowen could insure that Jedidiah Black had left Coal Valley, not to return. He walked to the door, went out on the veranda, and summoned one of the men that he had sent to take care of Bill Avery and his forensic kit.  
Abigail was exhausted. Night had fallen and the day had been particularly long, especially since there had been hardly any customers. Oh, Elizabeth and Jack had stopped by with some of the other townsfolk (the few brave enough to go against the Word of Gowen) and having that conversation with Bill had been, if not illuminating or completely satisfying, refreshing.

She wiped her forehead and moved to clean the few dishes and pots from the meals she had cooked that day. While she was scrubbing the pots and pans, her mind wandered to Bill Avery again.

What an interesting man he was. While she still wasn't sure what the photograph or the ring meant, she remembered the advice she had given to Elizabeth about Jack when that actress had waltzed into town and tried to win Jack over (again.) Until proven guilty, she would try to treat him as if he was completely innocent. That was only fair, after all.

They hadn't known each other that long. She couldn't expect him to bare his soul to her in a matter of days. In fact, she was surprised how often she found herself wanting to unburden herself on him. She smiled as she remembered the conversation when she jestingly asked whether he was a ventriloquist. He had responded laughingly that "**_wouldn't that mean I was trying to put words into your mouth?_"**

She laughed to herself. His eyes had twinkled when he responded – so he clearly hadn't been offended that she had been very reluctant to divulge any further personal information. It was fascinating, though, and a little frightening, how easily he was able to draw information out of her. Or was it just that she felt relaxed enough to be herself around him?

She wasn't quite sure. Either way, she was getting far too comfortable around him for her own good. It was time to pull further back before she opened herself to getting hurt again. Abigail needed to known, for her own sake, what secrets Bill Avery was keeping to himself. How could she allow herself to care for a man she barely even knew? Despite the fact that so much about him reminded her of Noah.

They didn't even look like one another – but they had that same innate courtesy. The same willingness to go out of their way to help someone else. Bill made her feel protected and safe. That was a feeling she had started to become accustomed to doing without.

Sighing, she picked up a towel and started to dry the now-sparkling clean dishes. Elizabeth was out on a walk with Jack, looking at the stars and talking. Abigail wasn't worried – Jack was a gentleman, he would not keep her out later than was proper and Elizabeth was safe with him.

All of a sudden, she heard a clatter from the dining room. She had blown out the candles, so the only light in the room was from the moon and the candlelight from the kitchen. Abigail picked up her iron skillet and moved quietly through the kitchen to the dining room.

Before she could even make a cry, a cloth was thrown over her head and a gag in her mouth. Frantically, she started to kick and scratch. _Now was _no _time to be a lady, Abigail Stanton_, she told herself. She jammed her elbow into something soft and heard a harsh grunt. She kicked out with her legs (_very unladylike, _she thought rather hysterically.) She heard something shatter as it hit the floor – _oh, that's going to be very expensive _ - and she struggled to get loose from the strong arms that had grabbed her.

She heard another clatter as a chair hit the floor and a muffled curse from the person that hadn't anticipated so much trouble from one female. _He has seriously underestimated me if he thinks that he can stop me like this, _thought Abigail furiously. While she was very frightened, she was also livid with anger. And kept fighting and kicking and knocking things to the ground. _If something happens to me tonight_, she thought, _I am not going down without a fight._

Then, just as she thought the person had finally given up, something sharp struck her on the head. She felt warmth on her forehead, and everything melted into the soft darkness of unconsciousness. The mysterious figure slung the unconscious figure of Abigail Stanton over their shoulder and made his way into the purple-blackness of the night.

He did not notice the drops of blood that had dripped down on to the floor and out the door, leaving a faint trail behind in the dirt and the dust. He left the door open – he knew people would be back soon and was not going to wait around to clean up the mess.

Jack and Elizabeth had had a lovely night.

They went to the top of the hill where Jack had taken their picture and looked at the stars.

"It really is a lovely night tonight," she said.

"Yes, you are really quite beautiful." Jack smiled as he looked at her face.

Elizabeth blushed. "I was talking about the stars."

"And I was talking about you," he smiled. "You really don't take compliments well, do you?" He laughed a little, "Do you think I'm flattering you?"

"No," she said shyly, "I'm just unaccustomed to being courted. My sister Julie had more suitors than I and she's much better equipped to handle compliments."

Jack reached for her hand and held it, "I think you're doing just fine. You're not as awkward as you might think. I would venture to say I'm worse."

Elizabeth grinned, "Well... you did take your time letting Rosemary down."

Jack admitted, "I don't like to hurt people's feelings and she _is _a connection to home for me. It's never been easy for me to talk about what's in my heart and even less easy for me to let someone else down."

She smiled at him, "I think you're doing just fine."

Jack put his hand in his arm and walked with her. "It's getting late. I need to get you home or Abigail will clobber me with that iron skillet and I'll never get to have anymore of those biscuits."

Elizabeth laughed, "Don't be ridiculous. She's never hit anyone with that skillet in her life."

"Don't let this be the first time!" He shrunk away in mock fear of the imaginary iron skillet.

It wasn't a very long walk back to the cafe.

Jack leaned towards Elizabeth and gently touched his lips to hers. What started out as a sweet good night kiss soon became a bit more passionate. She drew back, laughing a little, and smiled. "On that note," she said, "I think I need to go to bed."

"Good night, Jack..." she said and her voice trailed off as she noticed the open door.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, noticing the hitch in her voice, "What is it?"

"Something's wrong."

Jack quickly put on his Mountie demeanor and went up the steps. Seeing the open door swinging in the breeze, he told Elizabeth, "Stay back. Something's not right here."

He stepped into pitch blackness and almost tripped on a chair that had been knocked over.

"Elizabeth," he whispered back to her, "stay with me. There should be a spare lantern in the kitchen."

Elizabeth kept close. "I don't like this, Jack. Abigail always stays up to make sure I'm home safely. It's not like her at all to keep the door open...and why is there light still coming from the kitchen?"

Jack moved forward quickly and silently, feeling his way in the darkness. His instincts were screaming at him that something had gone horribly wrong.

They both got into the kitchen and a candle was still lit...unattended. Again, that was very unlike Abigail to leave a candle burning without someone to watch it.

Jack reached for the spare lantern and lit it.

He went back into the dining room. With the light flickering from the lantern, he saw turned over chairs and a shattered vase. He knelt down and saw dark spots on the floor. Putting his finger on one of the spots, he touched the liquid and brought his finger to the light of the lantern.

Jack looked at a frightened Elizabeth.

"We need to contact Bill right away," he said.

"Where's Abigail?" She asked, worriedly.

"I don't know." Jack spoke calmly, as to not worry her unnecessarily. "This could be just nothing – she may have run over to a neighbor's house."

Elizabeth looked at him, "I don't think so, Jack. She would have told me if she was going anywhere tonight."

Jack asked, "Could she be with Bill?" 

Elizabeth frowned, "This late? No, that would not be proper."

Jack gave her a look. "You're with me. It's late. We're quite proper. I think she could probably handle herself if she was with Bill."

Elizabeth looked at him keenly, "You don't think that's where she is, do you?"

Jack was very sober. "No, I don't. We need to contact the judge and Bill right away."

"As much as I hate to ask this but what about Gowen? Surely he would lend us some help if there was a problem like this?"

"I very much fear," Jack said slowly, "that Gowen may be behind this. I can't say for certain – so right now it's all speculation but these dark spots on the floor look like blood."

Elizabeth looked very frightened.

"It's okay, Elizabeth," Jack told her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, "if something has happened to Abigail, we'll find her. But I need to get looking for her – is there somewhere you can stay while we're looking?"

Looking shaken, she nodded. "I'll ask Cat Montgomery if I can stay with her for a while."

Jack looked satisfied, "I'll walk you over there – it's not far from the saloon. But, please, Elizabeth, "he looked at her seriously, "Promise me you will _stay inside_ until you hear from us. If Abigail was taken, it is not safe for you to be out alone."

Elizabeth didn't feel like arguing. A chill set into her bones and a deep fear crept into her heart.

Where had Abigail gone? Who had taken her and _why_? Was she all-right?


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: ****_The Search, Part I_**

**DISCLAIMER: The characters within are the property of the Hallmark Channel & Crown Media pictures. All credits are to be given to Brian Bird, Michael Landon Jr., Janette Oke, and all responsible for When Calls the Heart. These characters are not mine – I'm just playing with them and will put them back (relatively) unscathed when I am finished.**

Jack and Elizabeth walked to Cat's house in relative silence. Elizabeth was very afraid – she remembered when she had been taken by the notorious Tolliver gang and how badly that had scared her. And she was profoundly thankful that she hadn't been hurt, just badly shaken. How lucky she had been that Jack had come to the aid of her and Julie! Part of her still wanted to shake her gullible little sister for having gotten so involved with such a scoundrel – although Elizabeth strongly believed that Julie had learned her lesson.

Good things do come out of bad.

Things could have ended much worse than they actually did. Luckily, Jack had been her knight in shining armor once again. She looked over at him, with fondness in her eyes. She really had been fortunate in coming to Coal Valley. While she was not blessed with the physical luxuries that she had enjoyed at home, Elizabeth had been blessed in far greater ways. The children, the women with whom she enjoyed a close friendship – particularly Abigail, and Jack – all of them were gifts far more precious than a hot bath or chef-cooked meals.

"Do you think she's still alive?" Elizabeth whispered.

"I believe so. If Gowen had anything to do with this, eliminating Abigail permanently would seriously damage his standing in this town." Jack replied, "Many people might be afraid to stand up to him but they would take it very badly if anything happened to Abigail."

He turned to look at her, "What Gowen has underestimated – and I know this will lead to his downfall – is the integrity and the loyalty of most of the people in Coal Valley. I told Bill Avery that these people are special. And I meant it."

Elizabeth smiled in the darkness. "And we're so grateful to you, Jack, for your protection of all of us and for your donation."

Jack grinned, "Let's not talk about that. **_Doesn't anonymous mean anonymous anymore?_**"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Elizabeth had to smile.

Finally, they arrived at Cat Montgomery's home. Elizabeth stepped up on to the porch and knocked on the door.

Cat Montgomery, a pleasant looking woman in her mid – to-late thirties, opened the door. "Why, Elizabeth, how nice to see you."

Elizabeth looked apologetic. "Cat, I'm so sorry to inconvenience you like this and so late at night but something's happened to Abigail. Would it be all-right if I stayed with you while the gentlemen are out searching?"

"Of course!" Cat was more than willing to help, feeling guilty about the way she had treated Abigail since the meeting, "Is she all-right? What's going on?"

"We don't know," Elizabeth confessed, "Jack and I were on a walk, he brought me back to the café and the door was open. We both went in there and a candle was still lit, there were signs of a struggle and Abigail was gone. He thought it would be appropriate that I stay with you while the others are searching." She struggled to hide her fear.

Cat was horrified. "That's terrible! Well, Elizabeth, come on in and get warm. It's cold out tonight." She came out on the porch quickly and nodded to Jack.

"Thank you for bringing her here," Cat said, "we'll say a prayer for your safety and for Abigail. I hope she's all-right."

"We'll find her, Mrs. Montgomery," Jack tipped his hat. "If you do happen to see any of the men, please direct them to the saloon. We'll set up search parties from there." He looked at Elizabeth seriously, "Please, Elizabeth, stay inside tonight. Until these men are caught, I don't want you venturing outside."

He raised his hand when Elizabeth started to respond, "And before you say something about not needing a father…I just don't want anything to happen to you. Could you just do this for my peace of mind?" He smiled at her softly.

"Of course," Elizabeth smiled sweetly. "Please be careful."

Jack nodded. "I will. I promise I will make it safely back to you."

Jack was worried. He hadn't wanted to reveal the extent of his worry to Elizabeth since she was already frightened enough – even though she was trying to hide it. He knew those dark spots on the floor (though they were small) were blood – he just wasn't sure who shed the blood. Knowing Abigail, she probably had put up a fight since she wasn't the type to just back down and go quietly.

He hoped that she hadn't been hurt too badly. From the knocked over chairs and shattered vase, there had been a struggle and she probably had been overpowered. His mouth tightened – if those men had hurt one hair on her head…they would pay. He would make sure they would go to prison for a long, long time. And if Gowen had anything to do with it – if there was ANYTHING to link them to him – he would be going down right with them.

As he got closer to the saloon, Jack thought about Bill. He knew his old Academy friend and Abigail had been getting closer and he had been a little concerned about that. Although he didn't know the full story, he knew that Bill had suffered a horrible tragedy early in his Mountie career and that it had changed the man drastically. From stories he had heard in his academy days, Bill used to be a fun-loving, poker-card playing man about town. He had been seen on the arm of a few different beautiful women, always smiling and laughing. And, according to some of the older Mounties (that were far more talkative about such things), Bill Avery could drink with the best of them.

When Jack met him at the academy, there was little to indicate in Avery's appearance that he had ever been such a fun-loving man. The Bill Jack knew personally was quieter, more subdued, and much more private. It was rare for him to speak about anything other than his investigations. Laughter and jovial poker games seemed to be a thing of the past and he was never seen with any women, even on the rare nights out on the town to enjoy a beer at the saloon. And he rarely drank.

Jack had noted a white band of skin around the finger where a wedding band would traditionally be worn. Bill had never said a word about it and Jack never asked. But Jack watched – and sometimes he would see Bill look at his hands with a far away, distant look in his eyes. Jack wished there was something he could do to help the older man – but his innate sense of courtesy and respect for boundaries held him back from prying. He restrained himself even from attempting to become a confidante.

For although they were friends from academy days, Bill was considerably older than Jack (over a generation), and had been his instructor. Since the ranks were so strictly maintained, fraternization between the ranks was strictly prohibited. And also because of the age gap, Bill and Jack never became close friends. However, Bill had taken Jack under his wing and, to some extent, had mentored him in his early days.

Jack liked Bill and respected him. And he had been glad to see warmth coming back into his mentor's face when he saw Abigail Stanton. Jack might be young still but he was far from stupid. He knew when he saw Bill and Abigail together that there was an interest on Bill's part that he had never seen. Jack had heard from Elizabeth herself how Bill had leaped to Abigail's defense when Gowen had tried to intimidate her into silence.

_Interesting_, Jack thought, _Bill didn't tend to pull the "I am a Mountie and I can arrest you" card for simply anyone. In fact, I don't ever remember him pulling it at ALL._

And now he had to tell him that Abigail was missing. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation. Not at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: _The Search, Part II_

Jack stepped into the saloon. As usual, it was noisy. The bachelor miners were sitting at the bar, whiskeys in hand. Most of them looked tired.

And with good reason – the mining life was a hard one. Stuck day after day in the dark, often in brutal conditions with stuffy air, you could see some of them even wince at the faint light shining from the candles and lanterns. They were buried in the earth for most of the day – some may have forgotten what it was like to feel the sun on their face.

Jack sobered as he thought of the fate of the 46 miners who had never come out of that mine. What a terrible way to die, buried under tonnes of rocks and away from their families. His jaw set. He would help get justice for those men if it was the last thing he did. But right now he needed to help Abigail.

He spotted Bill among the miners – which was strange. Bill rarely drank and he still was a stranger in Coal Valley. But perhaps he was trying to get to know them and make some discoveries about the problems in the mine. That _was_ like Bill – even while he was "relaxing", the investigator part of himself was always "on."

Jack braced himself and went over to the bar.

"Bill," he started, "we have a problem."

"Oh," Bill raised an eyebrow, "what's the issue, Jack?"

Jack took a big breath, "It's Abigail Stanton."

Bill froze. Almost imperceptibly but he got very, very still. Jack, with his keen eyes, noticed that Bill's hand, holding a glass of whiskey, started trembling faintly.

Bill cleared his throat, "What about Mrs. Stanton, Constable?" _Oh, it's _that_ way, is it?_ Jack thought as he took another deep breath. _I do not want to tell him this_. 

"She's gone." Jack wished that the floor could swallow him – besides death, nothing was worse than telling a Mountie a friend – or beloved(?) - was missing.

"What do you mean she's gone?" Bill inquired, "I saw her this morning. She seemed in good spirits – a bit worn but handling herself well."

"I mean," Jack emphasized, "that she has _disappeared_. Look, Bill, I could stand here and tell you all the details...but you know as well as I do that we don't have the time."

The look in Bill's eyes was frightening.

"You mean to tell me," he looked at Jack, "she had _assistance_ in disappearing?"

Jack nodded, "Bill, she's been taken. And we've got to start looking _now_."

Bill's hand clenched around the glass – so hard that the glass shattered. Jack couldn't believe it – he had never seen his friend, his mentor, lose his composure in such a manner. He stepped forward. "Bill," he said quietly, "we'll get her back. I promise you that. But again, we have to start putting together these search parties before it gets much later. You know that." He gently prodded his mentor, who looked a bit shell-shocked.

He added wryly, "And I would suggest washing those cuts on your hands. I don't think Abigail would appreciate having to stitch you up _again_." He smiled.

Bill quickly asked the barkeep for some kind of cloth, which he was given.

"Tell me," he told Jack, while superficially cleaning cuts on his hands, "what happened."

"I don't know," Jack said truthfully, "Elizabeth and I had gone for a walk. I walked with her back to Abigail's cafe and when we got there, the door was open."

"Signs of forced entry?" Bill asked, his investigator mask on.

"None apparent." Jack responded, "It was just open. But," he added slowly, "there were signs of a struggle."

Bill got very still again, his eyes focused on the place where shards of his whiskey glass lay. Then, all of a sudden, he snapped out of the trance that he had momentarily engaged in. His eyes shone with purpose.

"Constable," he barked, "you were right. There's no time to waste. Let's get search parties organized. You can tell me more about what you found when we're on our way. First," he added, "let's ask these miners."

Jack struck his fist on a table to get the attention of the rowdy miners.

"GENTLEMEN." The miners didn't seem to pay any heed to him. "GENTLEMEN." He tried again.

Suddenly, a very sharp whistle cut through the noise.

Jack winced. He'd heard that whistle before.

"Gentlemen, if you could give our _fine_ constable some moments of your attention, I would be _most_ grateful." Rosemary LeVeaux stood up from the piano where she had been sitting, preparing to play another tune.

A bit grudgingly but politely, Jack thanked her. _Yes,_ he thought, _your presence could __certainly__ **sidetrack an army.** In this case, it was actually of help. _

"Abigail Stanton has disappeared. There is some evidence of foul play." He tried to ignore the silent presence of Bill at his side – he could feel the tension radiate from the handsome inspector. "From my estimation, if there was an abduction, it happened a couple of hours ago. We need as many hands as possible to help find her."

"I'll help!" shouted a rather tipsy miner.

"And I!"

"And me!"

"Me as well!"

"Count me in!"

All of the miners had, at one time, eaten at Abigail's cafe and they all respected the strong and beautiful woman who had dedicated her life to helping better the lives of the people of Coal Valley. And despite Gowen's poison at the meeting, none of them were willing to let an innocent lady suffer at the hands of thugs. In fact, most of them were very skeptical of Gowen's claims – several had worked with Stanton and never saw any indication of him being careless with the lives of his crew.

Jack felt warmth in his heart as he heard voice after voice volunteer to help search for Abigail. He saw Graves, the gentleman who had been so good to Mary and Caleb, be one of the first to step forward to help.

"Okay, gentlemen," he said, "here's what we're going to do..."

He planned to split them up into two parties – and have them comb opposite sides of the town and into the woods. On the way, they would fetch other men – bypassing Gowen and his cronies – and get them to help too.

Jack turned to Bill. "What else would you suggest?" He asked.

Bill looked grim, "We don't have much time. Let's get moving. I'm sorry that I delayed us even five minutes." 

While the miners and townspeople were gathering their lanterns and heading out into the cold night, in a cabin in the middle of the woods, Abigail Stanton was finally regaining consciousness.

Her head hurt. It was pounding like the summer she had gotten a toothache. Except she was able to get some relief from the toothache with some medicinal laudanum. And she wasn't sure she'd able to get any relief from the headache any time soon.

She tried to move, with little success. Her arms and legs were tightly bound to a chair in the middle of a very dark cabin. No light, no warmth. She was miserable.

If only she could get these darn knots untied. But it was impossible to see – the moonlight gave some visibility but there was no glint on metal to indicate a possible sharp implement. And every time she tried to move the chair, the pain in her head increased. She knew she was hurt – just how badly, she had no idea. 

Suddenly, she heard a door open and saw a shadow enter the room. She shrank back – Abigail was brave but having been knocked out, tied up, and left unconscious for Lord knows how many hours, she didn't have the courage to confront her attacker yet.

"Could I please use the facilities?" she asked, her voice a little shaky but steady.

"Ain't no outhouse here." the gruff voice mocked her discomfort.

"Please let me go outside, then." She pleaded. "I'll make it quick."

"You aint foolin' me," the unknown man snarled, "I know you wimmen and yer tricks. As soon as you git the chance, yer gonna split."  
"I promise I won't 'split' while I'm outside," Abigail said carefully, "but, please, don't humiliate me further by not allowing me this."

The man grumbled but grudgingly went over and loosened the knots. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pushed her in front of him.

"Make it quick." He hissed. "I don't have all day to babysit ya."

Abigail stumbled in front of him. The sudden movement sent a splitting pain through her head and she staggered outside.

"DON'T leave my sight," the man yelled, "or I will come git you. Hurry it up."

Abigail gathered a deep breath, moved quickly into the shadows and quickly took care of what needed to be done. "HURRY UP," her captor bellowed. Quickly, she moved back to the cabin but stopped when she was overcome by a bout of nausea.

She fell to her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach. Tears ran down her face and her mouth felt sour and musty.

"What's takin' you so long?"

"I'm coming, please...just be patient." Abigail pleaded. She put her hand up to her head quickly. She felt slick, warm liquid on her hand and a raised lump. It hurt so badly to the touch that she hastily dropped her hand.

Slowly, she stepped back into the cabin. The man grabbed her roughly and despite her frantic efforts to free herself, she was easily overpowered.

Furious, Abigail tried kicking him and managed to clobber him in the shin with the heel of her boot. The man howled and struck her across the face.

Abigail fell to her knees and winced. "_Nice work, Abigail," _she chided herself, "_Not smart. Get your head together._"

The irritated captor yanked her back up and threw her into the chair and tied her again.

" Who _are _you?" She asked angrily, "What's this all about? What's going to happen to me?"

The mysterious man laughed, "You think I'm tellin' you that? Whaddya think I am, stupid or somethin'?"

_Or something, _Abigail thought snippily. Her normal good nature was being sorely tested and having to deal with imbecilic captors just made her angrier. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked again.

"Nothin' for the moment." he said, "I'm goin' back to town for some supplies. You stay put." He laughed, knowing she couldn't get herself untied. A few moments later, he was gone.

_How can I get out of here?_, she thought tiredly. She knew she had to get moving soon – before that man returned. She was very much afraid that the plans for her were not good ones.

At the same time, Abigail wasn't stupid. She knew, based on her rough assessment of her injuries, that she would most likely not make it very far in her condition. Even if she was unable to get herself untied on her own – which was highly unlikely. _Be realistic, Abigail_, she told herself, _this isn't one of your adventure stories. _

One time when Peter was a lad, he had climbed a tree and taken a huge fall. He had broken his arm and gotten a severe blow to the head. She remembered – oh, how she remembered. She had been TERRIFIED when she heard him screaming and crying. The memory even now made her faintly ill.

The nausea, the knot on her head... she knew from when Peter had fallen that she had a head injury and that she needed to be very careful and to stay awake. She knew also that getting sick hadn't helped, that if she didn't get water soon, she'd quickly get dehydrated.

She wanted to fight and get away but she was too weak. Too tired.

_Lord_, she thought, _how are You going to get me out of this one_?


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: **_**Found**_

Bill and Jack had been walking in silence for the last hour.

They had taken one group to one end of the town and they had now spread out through the woods. By now, everyone had found out about Abigail's mysterious disappearance and people had flocked to help look for the woman who had helped so many.

Friends who had feared Gowen's wrath and hesitated to support her publicly gathered in numbers, partly due to guilty consciences but mostly because they truly were very worried. Some of the older children, like Wyatt Weaver, were assisting in the search – even though they had to be at the mine bright and early the next day.

Bill looked at the town gathering and inwardly marveled. At first he had been very skeptical about getting any help because he had seen the lack of support for Abigail in the wake of the allegations against her husband by Henry Gowen. The defeat and sadness in her eyes had hurt his heart, and as much as he had tried not to care, he couldn't help himself.

Jack was right. This town was special, these people were special. Granted, Coal Valley had its fair share of irritating busy bodies and gossips but that was true of all small towns. For the most part, though, the people were good, and they were kind. And they had an incredible core of strength that continued to amaze him.

It would be so easy for them to give up and just let Gowen walk all over them. But they had more than just a little bit of fighting spirit and Bill realized that Gowen didn't own as much of them as he thought he did. He didn't own their courage, their spirit, their desire for a better life for themselves and their children.

And he would insure that the ones who lost their husbands due to gross negligence would get the justice they deserved. If there was ONE thing he wished he could give all the victims he had seen in his travels, it would be justice.

Oh, he had helped many. He knew that. But there were so many he hadn't helped – and in one particular case, the town he had helped... that investigation had ended up taking a large part of his world away from him. He would not let that happen again. Too long company men had been getting away with this – too long lives had been lost due to selfishness and greed and a desire to win at all cost.

And while company men had taken a part of his life from him, they hadn't taken all of it. And he would never let another incident like the one years ago happen again. Not as long as he had breath within his body.

When Jack told him about the dark spots of blood on the floor, Bill had been enraged. For the first time in a very long time, he had felt his blood boiling. He even shattered a whiskey glass – he was only mildly ashamed of his lack of control. He was angry at the situation.

And he was angry at himself.

He should have known that this would happen. He should have known that Gowen would – like another man so long ago – go after someone he cared about. He had been IN Gowen's office and the man had made some sneering reference to not wanting to see Mrs. Stanton hurt. He had lost control for a moment, then, too.

It was his fault. 

Had he not come here and opened this investigation, Abigail would not have had to endure the lack of support from former friends, she would not have had her hopes raised only to be possibly dashed by the ruthless machinations of Gowen and his goons. And she certainly would never have been taken.

He SHOULD have foreseen that this would happen. AGAIN.

Ruthlessly, he buried those thoughts deep down. Self-pity and self-blame would not help Abigail now. He needed to keep alert and not let fruitless finger-pointing distract him from saving Abigail.

He wasn't going to lose her. Not now. Not ever again.

"Jack," he asked his fellow searcher. "Are there any cabins near by? Any that are in a somewhat remote location? If I were this man, whoever he was, if I were going to let her live, I'd want her in a secluded location – far enough away from the town but not too far that I couldn't easily go in for supplies."

"Wait a minute," Jack responded. "There IS a place. Not terribly far from here – a mile or two, maybe three. It was used by one of Gowen's former men, Charles Spurlock."

Bill kept walking, "What happened to him?"

"I found him threatening Elizabeth with a pistol. Gave him a good punch to the face."

Bill looked a bit surprised at the vehemence in Jack's tone.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Jack smiled. "I wasn't ever in real danger but Elizabeth was – and, honestly, my blood started boiling and I just saw red."

He looked over to see a small smile on Avery's face.

"What? Tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing!"

"Oh, I definitely would have done the same thing," Avery grinned, "I just remember a certain young Mountie telling me once upon a time, '**_If the Mounties had wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one_.**'"

"Things have changed since then," Jack admitted, turning a bit red. "Never thought I'd meet a woman like Elizabeth."

"You're happy then," Bill observed.

"Yes." Jack beamed, "She's **_the one. She's the only one_.**"

"Good for you. Make sure you hold tight to that, don't let her get away from you." Bill responded, a hint of sadness in his voice. "And make sure you _never_ take her for granted."

"Oh, I don't think that'll ever happen," Jack responded, with the typical self-assurance that only the young have.

"Never say never," Bill said, sadly. "You never know what the future will bring."

The two of them walked on in silence, peering through the trees.

Another hour went by. The night was hushed and still, with barely any movement from the trees. Even the birds were quiet, as if they sensed that something was very wrong. The light from a full moon shone through the trees, illuminating the way and transforming the shadows into a variety of weird and macabre shapes.

Jack whispered, "The cabin's right ahead. But it looks dark."

"Think, Thornton," Avery retorted, "if it's Gowen's men, they won't leave us a welcome mat."

The two men crept slowly towards the silent cabin – the only noise coming from the crunch of leaves underneath their feet and the occasional chirp of the birds in the tree.

In the cabin, Abigail Stanton was finding it harder and harder to keep conscious. She was so drowsy, so very, very drowsy. Her mouth was completely dry, the little sweat she had before had dried up, and she was feeling weaker and weaker.

She might have panicked at that point but she was just too tired. Maybe this was her time after all... maybe this was God's plan...for her to join her Noah and Peter. And she was tempted, so tempted... to just give into the blackness of the night and join them. Then all the pain would be over, she would see her loved ones again, and they would be happy...

_No, Abigail_, a little voice inside told her, y_ou have to be strong. Be strong for Elizabeth, for Jack. For the children. For Bill. _ She wasn't quite sure why her little voice decided to add that last part – with all the revelations of the last day or so, she wasn't sure where she stood with the enigmatic investigator.

But as much as she was tempted to give into the night, she would not. _She would be strong_.

Suddenly, the door creaked open – Abigail shrank back in the chair, afraid that the Man had returned again. By this time, she had gotten so tired and dizzy that she wasn't sure what she was seeing. She saw the vague impression of two men...one wearing a familiar coat of red serge...

They crept closer. And she shrank back, not knowing who they were.

_"Abigail?_" a very familiar voice whispered in the darkness.

Later, she would be very annoyed with herself – _Abigail, your sense of timing is dreadful, really_ – but the pain, the stress, and the discomfort finally overtook her and she fell into unconsciousness.

Bill dashed forward.

"Jack," he whispered, "your knife, please. I could loosen these knots myself but it'd take too much time and we've got to get her back to town right away. You brought the lantern, correct?"

"Yes," Jack replied, "I threw my overcoat over it in case there were people waiting at the cabin. And you're right, we should probably hurry – they'll most likely be back soon."

He knelt down besides Bill, "Is she okay?"

Bill lifted the lantern to Abigail's unconscious face and his face tightened with anger, "She's got a pretty deep cut on her forehead and side of her head and her mouth is swollen. She probably resisted and got hit for her pains." _Brave lady_, he thought, gently pushing her hair back off her head so it wouldn't get matted with the blood. "It's too hard for me to see if there are any other injuries."

Jack had a thought, "We won't be able to carry her all the way back to town like this. It's a few miles, at least."

"I know, Jack," Bill said patiently, "I just walked it, remember?"

He looked at his friend. "Jack, do you think you could go back to town and get a horse?"

Jack nodded, "I can. And when I see some of the search party, I will send a couple men to wait with you. We don't know whether her kidnapper will return tonight and I'd rather not leave you two unprotected."

Bill nodded, "I have my gun – I can take care of myself. If anyone tries to hurt her again, they'll be wishing they never were born. But send some reinforcements when you can. And hurry. I still can't tell how badly she's hurt. She needs treatment."

Jack nodded and ran out the door.

Bill loosened the rest of the ropes and gently removed them from around her. He quickly caught her before her body hit the floor and he lowered her on the nearby bed.

The cabin was small – one room only – with a cot in the corner, a wood stove, and a table. By the light of the lantern, he could see that it hadn't been used in quite some time. There were cobwebs everywhere and remnants of food – the little that hadn't been consumed by the animals, were covered with dust and grime.

This obviously had not been meant for long term occupation, he thought grimly. If Gowen was behind this, the man would regret ever stepping into Abigail's cafe. He would regret stepping foot in Coal Valley. Bill would make sure he'd pay for what he did.

He looked around to see if there was any water.

Nothing.

He stepped out the door and saw a water pump at the side. Quickly, he tore a piece of his jacket off and covered it with the cold water.

He stepped back into the cabin, knelt by the cot and gently wiped away the dirt and grime from Abigail's face. He could see by the pained expression on her face, even unconscious, that it hurt her.

"I am so sorry, Abigail," he whispered, his hand touching her face, "he'll never touch you again. You have my word."

He looked down in regret, "I should have been there for you – I should have known this was going to happen. I'm sorry my investigation led to this." 

Not for the first time, Bill Avery wondered whether pushing for justice was worth endangering so many lives. His blue eyes were hard and sad at the same time. 

He continued to bathe her face with the makeshift cloth, having to rub a little harder to get some of the dirt out of the blood on her face. She whimpered, wincing unconsciously.

"Dammit," Bill swore. Something he very rarely did – and only out of anger and frustration. "Jack Thornton," he muttered, "if you don't get your hide back here quickly...I'll write you up."

Suddenly, he heard a noise from the trees.

Quickly, he covered the light from the lantern and crouched down by corner of the cot, trying to keep himself out of immediate sight.

He could hear voices getting closer and closer to the cabin.

He reached for his pistol and put himself in front of Abigail, shielding her from this potential new threat.

Then the door swung open.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: _Going Home_**

Bill braced himself.

Was it Gowen's goons returning to finish the job they are started with both him AND Abigail, or was it the members of the search party he had instructed Jack to send? He fervently prayed (although he hadn't been a praying man in a long time) that it was the latter. He was still recovering from several kicks to the ribs and a head wound to put up an extended fight – in addition, he had Abigail to worry about.

Abigail... the moment he had seen her, tied up and bloodied, in a chair, his heart had leaped to his throat. At first, he thought she was dead, she looked so still. When he felt her pulse and heard her faint breathing, he had been so overwhelmed with relief, he thought he would sink to the floor. But he kept himself together and went to assess her condition.

When he saw the knot on her head and her swollen mouth, he wanted to punch the nearest object he could find. However, his more rational side reminded him that he had cut his hand shattering a whiskey glass earlier and while knocking a post senseless might feel good at the moment, it definitely wouldn't later. So he had pulled himself together, for Abigail, for Jack, and for himself. It wouldn't help Abigail if he injured himself even further than he had done.

The door creaked open and several lanterns shone their light into the dark room. Bill recognized one of them as the man Jack had pointed out as Graves, the gentleman courting Mary.

"Inspector," Graves called out softly, "Are you all-right, then?"

Bill nodded, "I'm fine. But Mrs. Stanton needs medical attention immediately. Do any of you happen to have a horse with you? I sent Constable Thornton back into town to bring one – because we were going to be able to carry Mrs. Stanton all the way back there in time."

"I've got a horse," chimed in one of the miners, "let the owner of the livery know about the situation and he let me borrow one."

Bill straightened up. "May I borrow it then?"

"Of course," the miner responded, "Do ye need help?"

"Only to help me get her up on the saddle," Bill said, "I can hold her in place and take her back to town. She needs immediate medical assistance."

"Glad to help ye," the miner replied, "but we don't have a doc in town. Haven't in months."

"All-right," Bill said, "I have some medical training and I'm sure I can fetch one of the women in town to help."

"Try Cat Montgomery," suggested Graves, "it's been said that she's skilled with healing."

"I will do that," Bill thanked him, "I appreciate all of your assistance tonight. Thank you."

"Not a problem," Graves responded, "All of us are mighty fond of Mrs. Stanton – and not just because she has a way with cookin'. She's a mighty fine lady."

"Graves. Will you do me a favor then and help me get Mrs. Stanton into the saddle?" Bill asked.

Graves stepped forward and gently the two men helped an unconscious Abigail out the door. Bill climbed into the saddle first and then Graves and the miner who had lent him the horse helped Abigail into the saddle in front of Bill.

Bill put his arms around her and took the reins.

"Thank you, gentlemen," he called back to them. "You best be off before the culprit returns. I will see you in town."

He turned the tall chestnut horse towards Coal Valley and trotted off.

Bill didn't want to ride too fast, lest Abigail had any internal injuries – so he kept the horse at a slow trot. There were spots in the forest that were rough and no clear trail, so he had to slow to a walk and have the animal carefully step around some of the obstacles.

"Abigail," he whispered to her, "if you can hear me, hold on. I need your help – I cannot finish this investigation or trial without you."

As the horse occasionally stumbled slightly, Bill could hear Abigail moan slightly. He knew she probably would be in a great deal of pain when she woke up – so he was partly thankful that she was staying in an unconscious state. He talked quietly to the horse, urging him on when the trail cleared.

As he neared the town, he saw many people with lanterns and candles walking his way.

"Did ye find her?"

"Is she okay?"

"What kin we do t'help?"

Bill spoke quietly, but with authority, "Abigail Stanton's been injured. I need one of you to fetch Mrs. Montgomery right away. Meet us at the cafe, we can take care of her there."

It was Wyatt Weaver who volunteered. "I'll get her, Inspector." He turned and ran off into the night.

Bill asked the townspeople to get out of the way and he quickly hurried the horse to the cafe. As he reached there, he saw Jack Thornton on a horse riding towards him. 

Jack pulled up besides him, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to get there quicker."

Bill nodded, "That's all-right – some of the townspeople who had made it to the cabin...one of them had borrowed a horse from the livery. The Weaver boy is on his way to Cat Montgomery's – I've been told she has some skill with healing. Abigail's going to need all the help she can get. While you and I have some basic medical training, it'll require a few more hands and it's more appropriate to have a woman attending."

"I agree with you," Jack responded.

"Can you help me get her down?" Bill asked as he stopped his horse in front of the cafe. "Of course, Inspector."

Jack dismounted, tied his horse to the railing, and stepped next to Bill and his horse. Bill gently slid Abigail off sideways into Jack's arms and then dismounted himself. The two Mounties carried the unconscious Abigail into the cafe, carefully avoiding the knocked over chairs.

A quiet voice interrupted them, "Can I help?"

Jack turned, "Elizabeth! I asked you to stay inside."

Elizabeth glared a little, "I was with Cat Montgomery and Wyatt, Jack. I was fine. Now what can I do to help?"

Jack grinned, "Always prepared, aren't you?"

Elizabeth smiled, "Of course. I'm not foolish."

Cat stepped to Elizabeth's side. "One of the other women is staying with my children, Constable. Now what can I do to help?"

Avery stepped forward, "One of you please get some light. We need to get her up those stairs and into her room. I don't want to risk stumbling and falling with her on the way up the stairs."

"Of course," Elizabeth hurried into the kitchen to fetch a lantern.

When she returned, she led the way as Jack and Bill gently carried Abigail up the staircase to her bedroom.

Cat turned to Jack and Bill. "I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to wait outside while I examine her."

Something must have shown in Bill's eyes because she added more gently, "Don't worry. I'll let you see her soon enough. Could one of you please boil me some water?"

Both Jack and Bill went downstairs.

It might only take one person to boil water but Jack was reluctant to leave his friend alone.

***********************************************************************************

Bill quickly found a pot, got some water, and put it on the stove to boil. He sighed heavily. He couldn't help but think that if he had not turned up in Coal Valley, Abigail would be safe and not upstairs unconscious with a head wound.

Jack seemed to read his mind, "Don't blame yourself for this, Inspector. There was no way you could have foreseen that this would happen."

Bill sighed heavily, "Unfortunately, maybe I should have. This isn't the first time that company men have gone after someone I've cared about to make their point."

"You can't possibly be responsible for every bad decision Gowen's decided to make." Jack pointed out. "Gowen – or one of his many minions – made the decision to go after Abigail. Not you. You are part of the reason for Abigail's renewed hope. Of all people, I know you will get the justice these people deserve."

"I just hope I'm deserving of their faith in me." Bill said, "It's going to be difficult with my forensic kit having been taken. But not impossible."

"It's funny you should say that," Jack said, "I have a thought..."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Plans & Discoveries

Cat used the towel to wipe her unconscious friend's face. She had managed to clean most of the dirt and grime from the wound on Abigail's forehead but the cut was deep and may need stitching. She had some medicinal laudanum to use in case Abigail woke up and was not able to relax.

She was concerned that Abigail had not awoken yet. With three children, she had her fair share of experience with bruises, cuts, scrapes and various knots of different sizes. Cat realized that she needed to try to wake Abigail – since she had been out for a couple hours now.

She gently touched her friend's shoulder. "Abigail," she said softly, "I need you to wake up." Abigail frowned in her sleep and moaned. Cat's face showed her deep worry for her friend and she gently wiped Abigail's forehead with the warm cloth, "Please, Abigail, wake up. You're needed."

I need you, Cat said to herself. She still felt so terribly guilty about the way she had

reacted when Gowen had said those awful things about Noah Stanton. Instinctively, she knew Gowen was not to be trusted. But she remembered her brief (but scary) stay in jail and her dealings with Charles Spurlock. The thought of having any more problems descend on her and her family from that corner scared her into staying away from her friend.

And she felt ashamed.

Abigail had always stood by her when there were problems. She had never judged Cat for her choices, including the one to stay silent about her husband's gambling problem and her problem with Spurlock. Whenever she needed a shoulder to cry on, Abigail had been the one to whom she had turned.

Abigail was the strongest of them all, with perhaps the exception of Florence Blakely, who never let anyone think for her and always said what was on her mind. Even if she was a bit blunt about it. Cat would never forget the time that the women volunteered to go into the mine.

Abigail Stanton was right at the head of the line, determination written all over her face, underneath the accumulated dirt and grime of a hard day's work in the mine. She had quickly earned the respect of all the miners and even the grudging respect of the shift supervisor. She worked hard and never took anything that she hadn't earned.

Her fabulous cooking had won the hearts of men, women, and children all over Coal Valley. And her deep compassion and loyalty had made her friends with almost all the women in the town – except for perhaps the mayor's wife and her cronies. Those women…Cat shook her head…nosy busybodies and gossips. They had never lent a hand to help anyone except themselves.

"Cat…" a faint voice broke into her thoughts, "…where am I?"

Abigail was awake. And from the drawn and tight look on her face, she was in

considerable pain.

"You're back at the café," Cat told her, sitting down in a chair next to the bed.

"Whose cafe? There's...there's a cafe? Who runs it? How…how…did I…get here?" Every word was clearly an effort for her to speak.

"Constable Thornton and Inspector Avery found you." Cat told her, "They found you and brought you back here. And this is _your_ cafe, Abigail. Yours."

"I don't…don't…remember," Abigail said weakly, starting to panic a little.

Cat leaned over and touched her shoulder, "It's all-right, Abigail, that's normal after a blow to the head. That may last awhile – you remember when Peter fell and had that big bump on his head… he couldn't remember what day it was."

"Peter…" Abigail frowned thoughtfully, "the name….familiar…."

Cat frowned, "Abigail, what do you remember?"

"I remember…Noah..." she said softly, "And I remember you….Cat, right?"

Cat nodded. "Do you remember anything else?" she asked softly

"Flashes…"Abigail's voice trailed off.

"Don't strain yourself," Cat reassured her, "it's common for some loss of memory after a blow to the head."

"A blow…to the head?" Abigail asked, "What…what happened to me?"

Cat wasn't sure how much she should say, since she didn't want to upset Abigail in her condition.

So she settled for some half-truths.

"I'm not quite sure what happened to you," she said slowly, "I do know that Constable Thornton and Inspector Avery brought you here. You were unconscious and weren't responding. Oh, Abigail, I've been so worried and I am so sorry…about everything."

"I'm…not..sure you should be apologizing…" Abigail said, "we've always been friends."

Cat realized that Abigail probably did not remember what happened the previous day or so. Whether the memory loss was permanent or temporary, she didn't know.

"Abigail," she said firmly but gently, "I need you to stay awake a little longer. Don't

push yourself to try to remember. Give it time."

"What have I missed?" Abigail was confused and worried, "Where's Noah? Where's

Peter?"

Cat was momentarily relieved that she seemed to remember who Peter and Noah were. But she was horrified to realize that Abigail didn't seem to remember that Noah and Peter were gone.

A gentle knock sounded at the door.

Cat smiled at Abigail, not letting the worry cross her face. "I'll be back in just a

moment," she told, "try to rest and, please, don't push yourself."

Abigail smiled weakly. "I will. Could you please tell Noah not to worry himself about

me. I'll be all-right."

Cat smiled shakily and quickly stepped outside the room.

It was Constable Thornton and Inspector Avery with more hot water.

"How is she?" Jack asked, concern on his face.

"Well," Cat replied, "I don't think there are any internal injuries, as far as I can tell. But I'm not a physician so my knowledge is really limited."

Bill looked at her face keenly, "But?"

Cat looked distressed, "You both know she took a hard blow to the head. It's looking like she has a severe concussion. Sometimes when that happens there can be a temporary loss in memory."

"You mean, she doesn't remember what happened to her?" Jack asked.

"Not just that," Cat said slowly, "but she doesn't remember the meeting with Gowen and the townsfolk a few nights ago."

Jack looked stunned.

After a long moment of silence, Bill spoke, "A few years ago, an acquaintance of mine had a riding accident and hit his head. A similar thing happened to him – there was about a week's loss of memory. It eventually returned – but it took time." He looked closely at Cat again, "Tell me – how bad is it?"

She looked helplessly at both of them. "She still thinks Noah and Peter are still alive."

Both Bill and Jack looked somewhat taken aback.

"I should have never gotten her involved in this," Jack muttered.

"It's not your fault," Avery responded, "Abigail's a strong willed woman. If something didn't seem right to her, she would have investigated it, regardless."

"What are we supposed to do?" Jack asked, "The trial's supposed to start tomorrow night. If she can't remember, that's going to be a problem. She's in no condition to take the witness stand."

Bill's jaw was set, "Let me handle that. I'll talk to Judge Black and tell him about the circumstances."

He turned to Cat, "Can I see her?"

She frowned thoughtfully, "That might not be wise at this point. If she thinks Noah and Peter are still alive, she won't know who you are. It might upset her or confuse her even more."

"I understand your concern," he replied, "The constable can accompany me. She may, at least, recognize him."

Cat scanned his face quickly. She had been hearing rumors about town that the handsome Inspector had taken a liking to her friend. Florence told her that she had spotted them taking a basket to Mrs. Weaver and Abigail had looked very animated and interested in Bill. Just as importantly, he had seemed interested with her.

And, Florence had added, he had shown courtesy to several of the townsfolk.

In addition, there was something in his eyes when he said Abigail's name... a type of warm and affection. True concern. The concern a good friend would show for another – or perhaps something more?

As if making a decision, she nodded at him and opened the door, "Only stay a few

minutes," she told him, "she's not doing well and she needs rest and quiet."

Bill thanked her, "We won't be long."

He slowly opened the door and stepped inside with Jack.

Abigail felt terrible. Her head was splitting, her stomach was both aching from lack of food and from something else – had she gotten sick? - and she kept thinking that there was something she needed to remember but couldn't. Something big. And the harder she tried to remember (despite Cat's sound advice), the more she couldn't remember. The pain seemed to be blocking everything that was important.

"Hello, Abigail," a different voice spoke her name.

She looked up and a tall blonde man stood there with a Mountie dressed in red serge.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically, "Do I know you?"

Both of the men looked at one another with concerned expressions.

"I have to apologize," Abigail said politely, "I'm not at my best, as you can see, and my memory is a little…well, let's just say it's hazy at the moment."

"No need to apologize," the Mountie said, "It's just good to see you safe again. I'm Jack Thornton, the constable here in Coal Valley. You know me from…well, I make

frequent stops at your café." He grinned, "The food's very good."

He turned to the man at his side, "This is Inspector Avery, a friend of mine from my

Academy days. He's an investigator with the Mounties."

"An investigator?" Abigail was surprised, "What brings you to Coal Valley?"

Even though she knew he thought she couldn't see, Constable Thornton looked

significantly at Avery. Avery gave him a quick nod.

"I'm here on some business," Inspector Avery said, "and visiting my old friend, Jack here. It's been years since we've seen one another. I thought it was time to renew old acquaintances."

Abigail had a feeling that there was a lot more to this story than they were telling.

_What aren't they telling me? And why won't they tell me? Why do they both seem so familiar? Are we friends?_

Jack unintentionally read her mind by answering her last question, "We've known each other awhile, Mrs. Stanton. I'm good friends with your dear friend, Elizabeth Thatcher."

Elizabeth! Abigail thought. Why does that name seem so familiar. The constable did say they were friends... maybe, just maybe, her memory was trying to restore itself, she thought hopefully.

"It's very kind of you to look in on me," she thanked them both, "I'm sure you must have many things to do."

"Not at the momen...ELIZABETH!" Jack looked flustered. "I should probably let her know what's going on. She may think I've forgotten about her."

"I highly doubt that," Bill smiled at his somewhat befuddled friend, "but you should go and tell her what's going on."

Jack didn't need any further encouragement and left the room as Cat entered.

"Where's the constable off in such a hurry?" She asked.

"To see Miss Thatcher, apparently." Bill grinned.

Cat smiled. Those two really were too sweet. She remembered those halcyon days, the freshness of new courtship, getting to know one another, the freshness of everything. She would give anything to have the feelings of those days back again.

Her smile faded as she turned back to check on Abigail, whose condition was deeply troubling her. She had faith that her memory would return in time but how frightening it must be for her dear friend to _not know_ that the love of her life and her child were gone. 

Cat sincerely hoped that Abigail would remember because she didn't know if she had the strength to tell her again that Noah and Peter would not be coming home. Hearing it once was hard enough, burying the bodies even harder – but having to go through it again, like it was the first time – that would be unbearable.

*******************************************************************************************************

Jack tried not to bound down the stairs; it wouldn't be dignified. But he wanted to see Elizabeth. Whenever he was around her, if he was going through a hard time, things were better. His life was better – _he_ was better – with Elizabeth as a big part of it.

He couldn't wait to see her.

"Elizabeth?" He called when he couldn't see her right away.

"Yes, Jack?" She smiled. She had been straightening Abigail's cafe – the chairs had never been picked up and she had finished sweeping the shards of glass from the broken vase on the floor.

He helped her pick up the rest of the debris from the struggle.

"How is Abigail?" She asked anxiously.

"That's what I need to talk to you about." Jack said. "She's not well."

Elizabeth turned pale.

"Elizabeth," Jack put a hand on her sleeve, "she's going to be all-right. But she's going to need some help. And," he joked a little, "I know just how helpful you can be... even when it drives me a bit crazy."

"Jack!" She gave him a little swat on his arm. "What can I do?" She asked, more seriously.

"Abigail took a fairly serious blow to her head," Jack explained, "she has some form of memory loss."

Elizabeth gasped, "How bad is it?"

"Bad enough." Jack replied. "I'm not going to lie to you, Elizabeth. Her memory might not come back right away. I'm not going to say it _won't_ come back but it may take time. A lot of time."

He cleared his throat and said, more gently, "Elizabeth – she doesn't even remember that Noah and Peter are dead."

"What are we going to do? How am I going to tell her?" Elizabeth asked, very worried for her friend.

"Right now, don't say anything. I think Cat is hoping that her memory will come back slowly – but we can't push her to remember. It may just be a temporary – so there's no need for us to worry quite yet." Jack tried to be as optimistic as he could, to avoid worrying Elizabeth.

"Of course. Is there anything we can do in the meantime? What about the cafe?"

Jack looked at her.

Elizabeth stared back at him, "You _cannot_ be suggesting I cook! Jack...do you remember my biscuits...and my CAKE? That sad little thing you and Mr. Hamilton fought over?"

Jack rubbed his chin, "Good point."

Elizabeth glared at him.

"What? I was just agreeing with you! Your cooking, well..."

"Well _what_?" She started to come towards him, a small smile on her face.

Jack started to back away but realized that he was backing up into the kitchen and really had no place to flee.

"Um, well..."

Elizabeth started giggling, "There's no way out of this one, Jack."

Jack raised his eyes to the sky. _How on earth did he always manage to put his foot in his mouth?_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: _Healing & Planning_

While Jack was busy putting his boot-clad foot into his mouth again, Bill turned back to Abigail.

She smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry I can't remember much. I'm hoping that this passes soon."

He smiled back her, "I'm sure it will. I've heard these things are common with head trauma. I've not experienced it myself but I knew other Mounties and civilians who have. It generally just takes some time and not pushing yourself."

"Well, I do appreciate your kindness," Abigail thanked him, "especially when I'm sure you have better and more important things to do."

"I can't think of anything more important at the moment," he said, "but I do know I need to leave you to rest. You've got some mending to do. And I don't mean the stitching kind." He grinned a bit and Abigail wondered what she was missing. There was some kind of joke here and she had a feeling that she was supposed to get it but she _just_ couldn't remember….

So she simply smiled.

Cat Montgomery walked up to Bill, "Inspector, I'll have to ask you to leave now," she said apologetically.

"I was just on my way out." He said, "Mrs. Montgomery, I'd like to thank you for helping care for Mrs. Stanton. I know you need to get back to your children."

"It's no bother at all," she smiled, "one of the other women is taking care of my babies. Abigail needs me – and between Elizabeth and me, we should be able to take care of her just fine. I do appreciate all your help and I know Abigail is very appreciative."

He smiled in thanks but Cat noticed his eyes looked sad and serious. She asked him, "Do you know what's going to happen with the trial?" "I don't know," he admitted, "I'm going to talk to Judge Black and explain the situation."

Cat was concerned, "You know she can't testify like this. She doesn't even know what happened at this point."

Bill tried to reassure her, "I know Jedidiah Black is a fair man. None of us could have foreseen this. Just make Abigail take things easy – I will handle the rest."

"Thank you, Inspector," Cat said, "you've helped set my mind at ease."

Bill smiled wryly. "Don't thank me yet." He said, "I'm just a human being, not a miracle worker."

He turned and left Cat to her thoughts. ************************************************************************

Bill's next stop was the saloon – where Jedidiah was, again, having a drink of whiskey. He would often quip that it was his favorite way of preparing for trial – "the likker helped keep my hand steady on the gavel." Bill didn't always agree with how Jedidiah comported himself in his private life but he had to admit that it hadn't affected the way he did his job. There was one thing that troubled him.

When they had stood at the coach that morning, Abigail had something about being grateful that the widows were finally "**_having their day in court_.**" Jedidiah had responded, "_You may not like the way the gavel falls_." With the lack of evidence in hand, Black could very easily dismiss the charges without prejudice since they had _nothing_. All they had was a file.

Gowen had enough money to buy himself out of trouble. But, Bill thought, with grim satisfaction, if they could get enough evidence, no amount of money in the world would bribe Jedidiah Black to let Gowen go. Unfortunately, there was no solid evidence linking to Abigail's attack, either. The most he could hope for from Jedidiah Black was a continuance, a temporary postponement, while Abigail recovered.

He didn't even want to think about what would happen if she never got her memory back. That was a worst case scenario that he didn't want to entertain.

Having her see him as a complete stranger was oddly painful. He had gotten accustomed to her wit, her laughter, and her relaxation around him. They had had several conversations – not necessarily related to the investigation – which had made him more and more interested in her as a person, and not just a witness in an investigation. She had told him several stories about her husband; stories that made Bill believe that not only was Noah completely innocent, but he was being framed by people that just wanted to cover their own tails. Bill Avery wasn't, in general, a praying man. He had lost faith in God a long time ago, when his whole world had been taken from him. But right now he felt completely helpless – Abigail's memory was gone (temporarily or permanently, they wouldn't know for some time), the forensic kit with the evidence from the mine was gone, along with his equipment – they were essentially back where they had started. At square one. _We really need a miracle_, Bill thought, _Lord, if you exist, help us. I'm not a praying man – You know that. I've never forgiven You for taking my wife and my son away from me. I still blame YOU for that. But I realize that we're stuck. We've made little progress; Abigail is in bad shape, and this investigation is on the verge of being dismissed completely. If You can hear me at all – if You still care for any of these people in Coal Valley – let me bring them justice. _

_Let the memory of an innocent man be cleared. Let the memory of an innocent woman be restored. If You exist and You are as all powerful as they say You are, do this. Not for me. For those who deserve justice._

"Well, well," Jedidiah Black looked at Bill from stern eyes, "What did I tell ya about talkin' about the case before the trial?"

"We have a problem," Bill said firmly, "Judge, this isn't something you can't ignore."

"I've _never_ ignored _anythin'_ pertainin' to a case in my life," Black retorted, "And I ain't about to start now, son. Spit it out."

"It's about Abigail Stanton…" Bill started.

"That widow yer sweet on?" Black responded, "Don't give me that look, son. I've been around. I kin see things even when people think I can't."

"As you know, she's on the witness list. She was kidnapped a few hours ago."

Jedidiah frowned. "She okay?"

"We're not sure," Avery responded, "whoever took her gave her a nasty blow to the head. Right now she's suffering temporary memory loss."

"And ya want me to grant ya a continuance…that 'bout the long 'n short of it?" Black looked at him shrewdly. "Ya know Gowen's lawyer – that fancy pants from the big city – he's gonna throw a big fuss about it."

Bill looked back at him steadily, "I also know you're not one to shy away from a ruckus."

"Well," Jedidiah chuckled, "yer sure right on that score. Well," he continued, frowning, "I caint delay this trial more'n coupla days, son. You've gotta have yer evidence or I won't have a choice than t'dismiss."

He looked at Avery steadily, "Ya got 2 days. That's 48 hours. Don't waste 'em."

Bill nodded, "Thank you, Judge."

"Don't thank me yit," Black barked, "Y'all may have just dug yer own grave. A witness with no memry and I'm thinkin' no solid evidence? Ya sure are fightin' an uphill battle, son."

"Have you ever known me to back down from a tough fight?" Bill challenged, "**_I like fishin'. And I'm gonna catch me something big.**_"

"Caint say that I've ever persuaded ya to do anythin' that ya din't settle yer mind on," Jedidiah admitted. "I have no dog in this fight – but I'll let yer witness have a break. This time."

He got up closer to Avery.

"And, dang it, if you kin prove that Gowen did this...well.. it might just help yer case, son."

_Fantastic_, Bill thought, _all I have to do is prove that Gowen is behind this attack _and_ that he knew the conditions in the mine were unsafe. That's easy._

He needed to find Jack.

Abigail felt well enough to get up and move around. She got dressed – had to do it sneakily and quickly before Cat Montgomery ordered her back to bed – but she was tired of lying in bed. She wanted to see if anything – _anything_ at all – jogged her memory.

So she put on one of her older gowns. She didn't bother putting up her hair, it hurt too much to try to put it up so she plaited it in a braid. Grabbing her shawl, she made her way downstairs.

"Abigail!" she heard a delightful voice.

She saw a young woman, dressed in clothes that were obviously well-made, hurry towards her. Why did she seem so familiar?

The young woman smiled kindly, "I'm Elizabeth Thatcher. I stay with you – well, I've been helping with Cat's children since she's been caring for you and I teach the children down at the saloon."

Abigail smiled pleasantly, "It's nice to "meet" you, Miss Thatcher. I'm so sorry I can't remember much right now."

"Don't worry, Abigail," Elizabeth said softly but confidently, "I know you'll get your memory back."

"I wish I was as sure," Abigail smiled hesitantly, "It's very frustrating to realize that I should know all of this," she gestured at the cafe. "It feels _right_ being here but I don't know why." Tears shone on her face.

Elizabeth smiled sympathetically. "I can't imagine how hard this is for you. But we're all here for you and we'll help. Would you like me to make you some biscuits?"

"_NO_," Abigail said very forcefully, then modified her tone, "I mean no, thank you." She hesitated a bit. "I wonder _why_ I really didn't want your biscuits?"

Elizabeth tried to hold back a smile.

"Wait," Abigail frowned a little, "I _remember_ a little now. Your biscuits are _terrible_."

"Abigail!" Elizabeth objected, with a half-smile in her voice.

"No," she said, "don't correct me. I _know_ (and don't ask me how) that your cooking is, well, less than...well, I'm glad you're trying!"

She brightened. "I think little pieces are coming back here and there."

"I told you," Elizabeth smiled, "we'll have you back to normal in no time."

"So," Abigail asked brightly, "Where's Noah? And Peter? I remember Peter now..."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: _Revelations and Plans_

Elizabeth was stunned into silence. Not usually at a loss for words, she didn't know what to say. But she had a feeling that she couldn't avoid the subject. Not this time. Abigail herself was very direct, honest, and to the point. She wouldn't appreciate prevarication. But, she thought quickly, I can do this gently.

"Abigail," she said, "You and I have been friends for several months now. And you trust me. I know you don't remember that right now but, please, believe me when I say that."

Abigail nodded, "I can see that you're a truthful and honest person, Miss Thatcher...may I call you Elizabeth?"

"Certainly," Elizabeth replied gladly.

"Elizabeth it is, then. Elizabeth, I need you to tell me what I don't remember, no matter how difficult it may be. I don't know how long my memory is going to be gone; I don't know if it will ever totally return. I'm sure glad I remembered about your biscuits, though." She twinkled at her friend.

"I'm rather relieved you did too." Elizabeth laughed, "Trust me, you would not have wanted to eat those. I've been getting better since you've been teaching me but I'm still pretty far away from what could be considered "good" food."

"Anyway," Abigail continued, "I need you to be a true friend to me now and tell me."

Elizabeth sighed. She really wished she could run away at this moment and let someone more wise, more experienced than herself to tell Abigail the truth. But, even though Abigail didn't remember the extent of their friendship, clearly she subconsciously knew that she trusted Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had to respect that and give Abigail the truth she was seeking, just as Abigail would have done the same for her. No matter how painful it would have been. Abigail had the tendency to look for the best in people but never shyed away from speaking the truth when she needed to do so. Even when it might have cost her friendships and, in this case, may have cost her the memory of her husband and son.

"I have been here for several months now," Elizabeth said slowly, "I came out West to teach at the school – which is in a saloon until we can get a new schoolhouse/church built. Three months prior to my arrival, there was an explosion at the mine."

Abigail's face started to turn pale and then there were flashbacks… flashbacks of women weeping, children crying… the tremendous noise that shook the town.

She put her hand to her head, frowning, as if in pain.

"Abigail," Elizabeth looked concerned, "Are you all-right?"

Abigail looked up at her, tears in her eyes, "I think I'm starting to remember a little. What happened?"

"Truthfully?" Elizabeth said, "We don't know how it happened, the whole story – but there was an explosion at the mine."

Tears started to fall down Abigail's face, "How many died?"

"Forty six men. Adam Miller was the sole survivor." Elizabeth said sadly.

Abigail's face whitened. Flashes of memory started to return. The sobs of the newly widowed women…Mr. Gowen telling them all that there had been an explosion at the mine… running towards the smoke, Cat Montgomery trying to hold her back. She remembered the sharp, physical pain searing through her heart and into her soul. Tears filled up her eyes. "I remember," she said softly.

Elizabeth gently placed a hand on her arm, "What do you remember, Abigail?"

Then, seeing the agonized look on her face, added, "You don't need to tell me if it is too hard."

Abigail looked at her, "Noah's gone, isn't he? And Peter too?"

Elizabeth just looked at her and Abigail saw the truth in her eyes. As strong as she was, the combination of weakness from her injury and hearing the news about her husband and son again was too much. She started to cry.

"Go ahead and cry," Elizabeth told her friend softly and embraced her. Abigail just held on to Elizabeth and the tears of stress, sadness, and pain flow.

"So what do you think we can do?" Jack asked Bill.

Bill had just told him about Black's 48 hour deadline. And already a few of those hours had elapsed.

"If we can get Gowen on witness tampering," Bill said, "that could buy us more time to finish this investigation. Black has already indicated that he would not hesitate to throw Gowen in jail if there was any solid connection between him and the attack on Mrs. Stanton."

Jack thought intently.

"You know," he said quietly, "there may be a way we can get him on something."

He told Bill about the night he and Patrick had spotted Gowen burning papers the night they had gone over to try to get help in finding Elizabeth and Julie.

Bill looked very interested. "When you asked him for assistance, did you get close enough to see what kind of papers they were?"

"No," Jack said, "he seemed in a real hurry to make sure those papers were burned."

"I knew he was up to no good. From the moment you sent me that file, I knew the man had a hand in this tragedy. The problem is proving it – men like Gowen, I know them – they think they can buy their way out of a problem. They think money can silence the truth. And they think that taking a life will make the problem go away. But it won't," Bill said, very softly, "the truth will out in the end. And then justice will be served."

Suddenly, Jack got the impression that Bill wasn't just talking about the Coal Valley investigation anymore. There was another story there – a secret Bill was holding very close to the chest. And Jack was more than a little tired of secrets. "Inspector," Jack said firmly, "is there anything you know, anything at all, that would help resolve this case sooner?"

Bill looked at Jack like he had grown two heads. "Constable," he said exasperatedly, "if I knew something, don't you think I would say something?"

Jack stared him straight in the face, "Back in my academy days, I would have answered that question with a straight yes. But it's been a long time since we've worked together and I know things change and people change. And I've got a feeling you're not being entirely open with me about something. And the last thing I want to happen is for this investigation to be de-railed because of some piece of information that got withheld. Also, the last thing Abigail Stanton needs is to be hurt again." He put a strong emphasis on those words

"Do you honestly think my integrity would have changed?" Bill asked, feeling put out and a little hurt by his friend's seeming suspicion. "And do you really think I would hurt Abigail?" Jack was slightly amused that Bill Avery seemed angrier about somebody thinking that he would deliberately hurt Abigail.

"I wouldn't want to think that," Jack said, "but, as I said, it's been a long time. And the appearance people put on isn't always who they are underneath. Remember what I told you about Elizabeth's sister getting fooled by that Tolliver."

"I guess I can understand that," Bill responded, the lines in his face deepening, "I don't like it but I understand it." He looked at Jack, "There are some things that I _have_ been holding back," he said slowly, "but it's not directly pertinent to the investigation."

He looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Constable – Jack – I've never been someone to discuss private issues with those with whom I'm not close friends. I rarely talk – I'm usually the one drawing people's stories out of them. It's rare to find someone with whom I feel comfortable enough to talk about my past. Which is why I find Mrs. Stanton so...fascinating."

He held up a hand as Jack started to say something, looking very uncomfortable. "I know you're just doing your job – it's part of what I taught you to do back at the academy. So, really, I shouldn't be surprised or upset that you're turning my own lesson back on me. And perhaps I should have said something sooner – but that was my own tendency to keep things private unless it was absolutely necessary to tell them.

Bear with an old man's tendency to keep his heart private." He smiled wryly at Jack, who had now sat down and was listening intently.

"You and I are very different in age, Jack." Bill told him, looking at him keenly, "you're what? 25, 30 now?"

"26." Jack told him.

"Well, then," Bill responded, "I'm 52. I've lived almost twice your life. And, trust me, it has felt like it. When I was not that much older than you – about 28 – I met a woman. Her name was Mary. She was beautiful and intelligent – much like Mrs Stanton in that way. She was also wealthy – the daughter of a shipping magnate from New York in the States. Not too different than your Miss Thatcher in that respect, I'd imagine.

We met, thought we fell in love, and as you might expect, her father was not too supportive of his daughter marrying a Mountie – I was just starting out then in my investigative career. But Mary was fairly headstrong and so was I. And, as some young people tend to do, we didn't always keep the practical considerations of such a match in mind.

She came from a VERY different world. She grew up surrounded by tremendous luxury. She had the best of everything – and even the best suitors. And it was only by pure chance and luck that we met at a reception. I had relatives from New York and since they were in the upper class, they decided to show a relatively green Mountie some of the sights of the town.

I laugh now at the concept of love at first sight – but back then I believed in it. And she and I went against her parents' wishes, married, and moved up North. I know," he smiled ruefully, "it does rather sound like a badly written Victorian novel. But those things still happen – as incredible as you might find it."

He stopped to clear his throat and continued, staring out the window at the sun shining on the tops of the mountain fir trees, gently waving in the distance. 

"When we moved up North, Mary quickly found out that the life of a Mountie's wife was not an easy one – especially being married to a budding investigator. My work sent me many places – often away for long periods of time. I have to give Mary credit; she worked very hard to make things easy for me, even though it was clearly hard on her. And although both of us quickly realized that what we thought was love had been infatuation, neither of us took marriage lightly and were prepared to work hard at it.

And, eventually, the harder we worked, the more we supported each other, we did end up loving each other. You will find," he said softly, "that although the Mounties say 'if we wanted you to have a wife, we would have issued you one', that the winters can be very long, very cold, and somewhat lonely. With the right woman, the life can be bearable, if not easy."

"So," he continued, "about 2 years after our marriage, Mary and I had a son."

Jack looked completely startled.

"You had a child?" He asked, "but I never saw.."

Bill interrupted patiently, "I'm getting there. Mary and I were delighted, of course, and John was a very clever child. And a somewhat headstrong one. After all, he was a combination of Mary and I, and both of us had very strong personalities." He cleared his throat again.

"Moving forward," he said, "When John was about 12, I was assigned to investigate an accident at a coal mine not too much different from the accident here in Coal Valley. Mary, John and I moved to a town closer to the mine where I would be investigating. The people who had brought this "accident" to our attention indicated that this would be a long investigation – since the accident had occurred about a year or two before we got there. So whatever evidence that had been lingering in that mine had deteriorated considerably."

"Yes," he smiled faintly, "I'm used to conducting investigations in circumstances much more dire than these. Although, to be frank, the difficulty of this situation is compounded by the time limit given us by Judge Black. Setting that to the side for a moment, I was really facing an uphill battle. Especially since the company man in this case was almost exactly like Gowen, except worse. He was much more ruthless.

Unlike Coal Valley, there was no Abigail and no you, Jack, to get an investigation started. There was just one frightened individual who had been in the person's employ and couldn't take the guilt of covering up the accident any longer. He told the local constable that he had proof of a coverup and would bring the evidence to him the net day.

Well, the next day, that person met with an unfortunate "accident." Somehow he had "accidentally" shot himself." Bill's eyes clouded with an emotion Jack couldn't put his finger on.

"The constable then wrote the forensic division and so I was sent – I had been an investigator for about 12 years at that time and had closed a few mines. They thought I could solve this case. So I worked and I worked – and eventually I was able to uncover enough clues to indicate that the accident should NEVER have happened." Bill's eyes blazed with anger at the memory.

"In this case," he told Jack, "nearly 70 miners died. Died for NO reason. One night I made a serious mistake and told the man in charge that I was on to him." He smiled slightly, "Not too much different than what I said to Gowen recently."

He frowned, "This particular man was a lot less subtle than Henry Gowen and, believe it or not, much more ruthless – he had much more to lose. He actually owned a couple different mines and this was the smaller of the ones he owned. If I found that negligence or something worse had led to the deaths of those miners, his other mines would have reverted to the Crown and he would have faced death by hanging." 

Jack kept quiet, keeping his thoughts to himself. 

"The man not only threatened me directly, he threatened my family. Unfortunately," Bill's eyes filled with remembered pain and sorrow, "I didn't take him seriously."

"I met with a couple mysterious "accidents"," he continued, "mostly nuisances. A burr or two under the saddle of my horse, "accidental" rock slides along paths I traveled... nothing serious. Then one night I got set upon by a few of his henchmen and was beaten severely. Broken ribs, sprained wrist, cut on the head. I was lucky that a tradesman came along not too long after that and brought me back to town.

After that, Mary begged me to stop. She hadn't been too concerned in prior investigations since my life hadn't been so directly threatened. And she was intelligent enough to understand that I could handle myself. But this scared her. And I," he swallowed, his eyes filling up with pain so acute that Jack felt uncomfortable witnessing it, "I refused to stop."

"I was so enraged by his actions, by the deaths of those miners, I couldn't stop. I kept telling her that I had to get justice for these men and their families. She would ask me why it mattered to me so much and I told her I just couldn't erase the images of those heartbroken families – the families that had been torn apart, who would never be the same again. She understood – she didn't like it and kept asking me to stop – but she understood.

And, like the fool I was," he said bitterly, "I continued."

Jack interrupted, "You weren't a fool," he said, "you _cared _about these people. You risked your life to help them. How does that make you a fool? The fools were the ones who stood by, saw this happen, and were silent."

"You didn't see this man," Bill said, "He was Gowen...multiplied by a factor of two. Anyways," he said, "I continued my investigation. Things between Mary and I got much more tense. She didn't agree with my decision and although she supported me, she wasn't happy."

"Then one night," he choked, "one night I was called away to a town not too far away. Apparently, the constable "needed" my assistance." For a moment, he lapsed into silence, his eyes dark with remembered pain and hurt. The lines in his face suddenly looked much deeper and for the first time Jack thought his friend looked _old_.

"When I got there," he continued, "the constable didn't know what I was talking about. When I opened the message, the constable said the writing had been forged. I was the fool that night," Bill said angrily, "had I been thinking more clearly, I should have seen that it was a clumsy forgery. As soon as we figured it out, I got right back on my horse and got back to the town where Mary, John and I lived."

"The house was in flames," he whispered, his face haunted. "I could see the smoke a couple miles down the road. I got there as fast as I could. Tried to go in there... but I was too late. I went for help and I was able to get some of the townspeople to help douse the flames but... it was too late. Mary and John both were gone."

He was struggling visibly but regained control and continued, "The medical examiner said they had been probably dead before the fire started. I left the town the next day."

Jack's heart ached for his old friend. "What did you do then?" He asked.

Bill's face looked closer to sixty at that moment. "I sent a telegraph to Mary's parents. They never talked to me again. I knew they had never forgiven me for taking their daughter away and they blamed me for her death. I heard a few years after Mary and John's death that they had passed away – most likely from broken hearts." 

He looked towards the mountains, cold and silent against the bright blue sky. "I could never blame them for how they felt towards me. In either case, I never saw them again. They never wanted to talk to me and I respected that. I continued with investigating – closed down several more mines – and threw myself into work. And about five years after they died, I got a temporary assignment at the academy. Which is where we met for the first time."

"And that," he told Jack, "is where we met. I was forty-five when I was at the academy and you know I stayed there four years. I then was transferred to where I had been working until you sent me that file. And that," he said, "as they say, is that."

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

Jack looked at his friend, struggling to find the right words to say.

"You know you weren't to blame for their deaths." He said softly.

"With my head, I know that." Bill said tiredly, "my heart is a whole different story."

"That's why you came immediately when I sent you that file." Jack said.

"I wasn't going to let this happen again," Bill replied softly, "Not again. I may have failed those miners and my family – but not again, not here. I won't fail them again," he said in a softer voice, "I won't fail Abigail. But I'll not let her be put into danger again," he said fiercely. "Even if she has to go away for a while, I can't let what happened to my family happen to her."

Jack understood, "You care for her."

Bill looked worn and sad, "I do. And that's a dangerous thing for me in this job. And during this investigation."

"Are you going to tell her?" Jack asked.

"In her condition? With no memory, with no recollection of who I am? No," he said. "I won't do that. She needs to recover. And I need to find a way to keep her safe. I promised I would get her that justice; I meant it. But I won't have her life risked again. If I have to leave and finish the investigation from off-site to avoid drawing unwanted attention to her, I'll do that."

Bill turned away and Jack almost didn't hear what he said to himself.

"I won't have another person I love hurt because of my career."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Realizations and Remembrances

Jack didn't know what to say.

He didn't know Bill very well generally but from his observations and interactions with him back in his academy days and now in Coal Valley, he knew that Avery was not a man to reveal what was in his heart to simply anyone. And Jack really understood that. He himself had told Elizabeth that it was difficult for him to speak about things close to his heart.

Losing Rosemary those years ago had been difficult. At that time, he truly had loved her. They had planned to build a life together and having her leave had shattered his heart. At the time, it had seemed to be a message from God that Mounties weren't meant to have a wife. So when he moved to Coal Valley, he had been completely shut off to the idea of finding someone again.

But he figured out later – once he had started to stop leaping to snap judgments based on appearances – that part of the reason he had "butted heads" with Elizabeth was because he was starting to care for her and he didn't want to get hurt again, like he had with Rosemary. So he had gone out of his way to be a bit of a thorn in her side. But the more he did it and the more she reacted, the more he actually started enjoying her company.

Life, Jack thought, is what happens when you make other plans. He had also heard another saying – maybe it was from Abigail, it sure sounded like her. _Do you want to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans._ What God had planned for him apparently was a far cry from what he had intended for his life when he first set foot in this small town. Not only had he been miserable with the thought of being stuck in Coal Valley, he had thought Elizabeth had been nothing but a spoiled rich girl who would flee back to the comforts of home at the first sign of something difficult.

And, boy, was he ever wrong. And he couldn't be more grateful for being wrong. _Thanks, God,_ he thought, _for saving me from my idiot self. _

And he realized with shame that, once again, he had jumped to the wrong conclusion when it came to Inspector Avery. Bill's close-mouthedness hadn't been him concealing truths about the investigation – it had been his way of protecting himself. Jack could have just kicked himself.

Hadn't he done similar things with Elizabeth when he hadn't explained to her about Rosemary? Closed himself off when it got too uncomfortable?

How could he have so misjudged his old friend?

"Inspector," he said quietly, "I'm sorry for misjudging you. I never should have thought that you were holding information back from the investigation. I should have remembered back to our academy days. You were never the type of person to stand in the way of getting the truth. And I should have never thought that you would do or say anything that would hurt Abigail Stanton."

Bill nodded in acknowledgment, "Jack, I don't blame you at all for thinking the way you did. Since losing Mary and John, I have been far less forthcoming and willing to reveal too much of myself. People have a tendency of taking advantage of vulnerabilities and in my line of work, you don't want to be too vulnerable. The world is an unpleasant place and, unfortunately, there are far too many Henry Gowens out there willing to exploit weaknesses. It's made me distrustful of former friends so please accept my apology. You haven't seen me in many years so your reaction is quite understandable."

Jack smiled, "Nothing to apologize for." For a moment, the two men stood in a rather awkward silence. Men, as a rule, do not "bear their souls" to one another as women might do to one another. Especially Jack Thornton and Bill Avery. Both somewhat closed off (or in Jack's case, simply bad about speaking of things close to the heart), neither of them found it easy to speak of private/personal issues.

"Then," Bill decided to relieve the awkward tension from the soul-unburdening, "do you have any thoughts on how we can obtain further evidence? Can you tell me more about the night you and the other constable witnessed Gowen and his men burning papers?"

Jack nodded, "It was after Elizabeth and Julie had been kidnapped by the Tolliver gang." He omitted the fact that Abigail had been tied to a chair. He figured that there were details certain overprotective friends didn't need to know...

"He and I had walked over to Gowen's; we wanted to deputize the Pinkertons to help us in aiding in the Tolliver capture. They were less than helpful," Jack's lips narrowed; he had neither forgotten nor forgiven the way Gowen had handled their request that night.

"They declined?" Bill frowned, clearly not liking that idea.

"Yes," Jack still got livid, "they practically blamed Elizabeth for her own abduction!" Even remembering the situation got his blood pressure rising. He would have never forgiven himself if something had happened to Elizabeth – he couldn't imagine how terrible Bill felt about what had happened with Abigail.

Bill just shook his head, "Gowen's henchmen aren't the sharpest tools in the shed. And the man is only out for himself. He's not going to offer assistance unless there's something in it for him. Money is the bottom line. I've known too many men like that. We have less than two days to come up with a way to stop Gowen."

"Well," Jack said slowly, "there's no way Gowen will let us into his office to comb through the fireplace for remains of those papers."

"Is there a compost heap nearby?" Bill asked, "I know it is a long shot but he may have disposed of the evidence there."

Jack's nose wrinkled slightly at the idea of digging through a huge compost pile. "There must be an easier way to do this."

"Well," Bill smiled wryly, "unless you can somehow appeal to whatever good is in Gowen's conscience and convince him to nicely hand over the evidence, I think we might be stuck digging through that compost pile."

"What about getting more evidence from the mine?"

"My forensic kit has all the tools I need to properly collect the evidence and that was taken from me by the men that beat me that night. And I'm guessing that Gowen has that place pretty well boarded up now. He's not going to just let me get another chance at getting more evidence against him."

"I guess we're stuck digging through the compost then." Jack said, with faint disgust.

"I guess we are," Bill grinned, "You might want to change out of that red serge, Constable. You're liable to get messy."

He couldn't help but chuckle out loud at the look of utter disgust on Jack's face.

Elizabeth could make tea. She couldn't make a proper biscuit yet, barely could make an

acceptable cake/pie, but she could make tea.

Or so she hoped.

_How hard could it be_, she thought, _just involves boiling water and tea leaves, right?Abigail does it all the time._

Thinking of Abigail, she frowned slightly. She wanted so badly to help her friend. But at the moment it seemed like the best thing to do was let Abigail absorb the flashes of memory returning to her and not push it.

Telling her about Noah and Peter had been gut-wrenching. Elizabeth had really never lost a loved one before so she was inexperienced at handling loss. And it must be so hard for her, Elizabeth thought, feeling like she had just lost them a second time.

Back to the tea. Elizabeth tried to remember what Abigail had told her about brewing the perfect cup of tea.

Boil water.

Add to teapot with loose leaves.

Brew for 3-5 minutes.

Elizabeth looked at her work. _Hurrah_, she thought, _I can make tea._ _My biscuits taste like bricks and my cakes not much better but at least I can do this._

She brought it out for Abigail, with some milk and sugar.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Abigail smiled at her wanly.

"Are you feeling better?" Elizabeth asked sympathetically.

"Depends on what you consider better," Abigail said, her eyes reddened from tears, "but I'm doing

as well as can be expected."

"Do you remember?" Elizabeth asked hesitantly.

"Most things…seems like your biscuits helped trigger my memories."

Elizabeth looked a little apprehensive, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

Abigail chuckled, "It's a good thing." She added, more seriously, "While I'll not deny that it is intensely painful to remember losing my husband and son, I would rather have those memories than go through life not knowing. Both joy and sorrow are a part of life, and I would feel incomplete without my memories – they are a part of me as much as my mind or my soul is a part of me. They are part of the person I am."

"The worst part," she continued, "would be going through my life without the many happy memories we created as a family. Losing the painful remembrances might be considered a blessing but if that comes at the expense of losing the happy ones, that's a price I'm not willing to pay. Noah and Peter may be gone from this earth but as long as I remember them, they're alive in my heart."

"But," Elizabeth said softly, "don't you want to look to the future and move on from the past?"

Abigail smiled softly, "Easier said than done, I'm afraid. I guess, like many who have lost loved ones, part of me feels that if I "move on", that means I'm forgetting them or stop loving them. But looking at Mary and Mr. Graves, I no longer think that's true. But it's hard to put that into practice."

"I wish I could be as strong as you," Elizabeth said wistfully.

"Oh, I think you are." Abigail smiled, "You just haven't been tested in certain areas the way I have, the way the widows and these families have been. You're still rather new to this life – and you're new to loss."

"That's very true." Elizabeth acknowledged. "I really haven't lost anyone very close to me. My parents have – but I have not." She then changed the subject quickly to avoid lingering on a painful topic. "How much do

you remember?"

"Many things." Abigail replied, "I remember the explosion… I remember you…I really am beginning to remember most – there are just some things I'm hazy on and, as for what happened to me, I don't remember any of that at all."

"Do you remember Inspector Avery?" Elizabeth smiled teasingly at her friend, feeling a bit more comfortable joking with Abigail about everything.

Abigail turned a pretty shade of pink.

_Goodness, _Elizabeth thought, _ I wish I could look that pretty when I'm embarrassed. Instead I just turn a nice cherry red. All the way to my ears. A color not too different than the shade of red serge...Elizabeth, FOCUS._

"I take that as a yes?" Elizabeth teased, shaking herself out of her momentary distraction.

"I remember Bill…Inspector Avery." Abigail blushed some more, "I didn't say anything inappropriate, did I?"

"Of course not," Elizabeth smiled, "even when you are injured, you are still the model of propriety."

Abigail smiled a little, "I rather doubt that but thank you for the reassurance." She frowned a little.

"Are you tired?" Elizabeth asked quickly.

"Yes," Abigail said, "My head's hurting a bit, I'm afraid. My strength isn't where it normally is, I'm

afraid."

"Cat Montgomery has been helping." Elizabeth told her, "We've closed the café until you are back to full strength."

"And I am grateful," Abigail smiled, "you truly have been a good friend, Elizabeth. I am blessed."

Elizabeth returned her smile. "It's the least I can do for all the wonderful things you have done for me. Even after I burned down that building, ruined the food, and, well…all the other things."

"We all make mistakes." Abigail smiled, as she got up to go to her room.

"Some of us more than others," Elizabeth grinned in embarrassment.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: _In Which We Meet a Pinkerton With a Heart_

Ethan Richardson wasn't a bad man. At least he didn't think so.

He didn't harm women or children. And, for the most part, he stayed out of affairs that seemed like they may be skating that fine edge of not being entirely legal. Now if he was questioned a bit more thoroughly, he might admit that he had done things that were…let's just say…a bit unethical.

Until lately, he hadn't really been concerned about that. He lived on his own and didn't have to answer to anyone except Henry Gowen. A life-long bachelor (so far), he had deliberately chosen not to get involved with wimmen-folk. Too much trouble, he decided, and he didn't want none of that. No one in his life to ask him disturbin' questions or cause him bother. He liked it that way.

But recently, certain things that he had been instructed to do by Gowen (or actually helped Gowen do) really started to bother him. For instance, the fact that Gowen really seemed to have it out for the Stanton lady. Ethan didn't mind her at all – she was a nice lady, even if she had been sneaky and stole Mr. Gowen's file. Her food was good and he enjoyed stopping by the café and getting a bite while his boss conducted business elsewhere.

The fact of the matter was – Henry Gowen was dead wrong about Noah Stanton. And Richardson _knew_ Noah Stanton wasn't the one behind the explosion at the mine. Ethan also knew that Gowen was completely aware of that Ethan wasn't highly educated (he knew how to read and write but he wasn't no college man), he was street smart and he knew that Gowen was trying to put the blame on a dead man to shift the responsibility from himself.

Even though Ethan had definitely done some shady things in the past and present, he _did_ have a conscience and smearing the reputation of a dead man simply didn't sit well with him. To tell the truth, he was more than just a little disgusted. So he had done some further researching on his own, and while Gowen had been busy burning some of the evidence, had prevented other important papers from being burned.

Some of the papers were actual correspondence between Henry Gowen and Noah Stanton. Stanton had written Gowen long before the explosion, telling him that the levels of gas in the mine were quickly rising to unsafe levels. Stanton had even warned Gowen exactly what he could expect to happen if the appropriate precautions were not taken. And Gowen had done nothing.

Richardson had already suspected Henry Gowen had known more than he had let on when he had summoned Ethan into his office for an impromptu document burning "party." Now Ethan was smart – he knew that there was bound to be trouble. And even though Gowen might avoid being indicted, you never really did know when the manure would hit the fan. As a safety net for himself then, he had taken some of the more incriminating pieces of correspondence. And those papers would definitely land Gowen in hot water with Jedidiah Black. Ethan was not above using manipulation to save his own hide.

Growing up poor and the son of a single mother, he had been used to the taunts and mockery from some of the other children. Kids could really be cruel, he remembered, and the nasty comments about no father being around had really hurt him. So, while he wasn't a big kid, he quickly learned to be tough and use whatever information was necessary to protect himself.

That's how he survived.

But then Inspector Avery had come into town and all that stuff had happened with Mrs. Stanton's kidnapping. Richardson was pretty sure that Henry Gowen had something to do with Mrs. Stanton's abduction too, although not in a direct way. Gowen had not gotten as far as he had without playing things very close to the vest and being extremely difficult to pin down on any kind of wrong doing.

Ethan had been off work the night that Abigail Stanton had been taken – but he knew there were other Pinkertons that would not hesitate to do things he himself wouldn't. For the right price. And knowing Henry Gowen, he had probably brought one of those greedy Pinkertons in and asked them, quite civilly, to "take care of the problem."

That way, if the Pinkerton had been caught in the act of kidnapping, Gowen had plausible deniability. "I just told him to take care of the problem," he would tell Constable Thornton, "it's not my responsibility if the man misunderstood the instructions." If he hadn't been so disgusted with the man, Ethan might have really admired his sneakiness. After all, he was the last man to point fingers at someone else for not taking the moral high road.

Now he was at a moral crossroads. He could continue playing Gowen's game and help cover-up the evidence of Gowen's negligence or he could actually do the right thing and turn the evidence over. Ethan knew that if he did that he might face certain consequences – after all, he had helped burn some of those papers and both Thornton and the other constable had seen him doing it.

And he had also been there when Avery had gotten beaten – he hadn't laid a hand on the man but he had taken that forensic kit.(Which was still safe and sound in his quarters.)

Blood was on his hands too. And he knew he had to pay that blood price. Surprisingly, he was prepared to accept that. Because he simply could not participate in this any longer. Ethan was no longer willing to play Gowen's game; that's not the type of man his mama had raised him to be. He still had some honor; and he wanted to keep that.

In addition, the thought of an innocent woman being injured just to cover up someone else's wrongdoing turned his stomach. He remember Gowen saying, "**_this is war**_" when he found out that Mrs. Stanton was working with Inspector Avery. Well, in his mind, real men didn't wage war on women and innocent dead men.

When he was a kid, that was one of the points his mama always emphasized with him. "Always treat a woman like a lady," she would tell him, "even when you think she isn't behavin' like one. You kin tell the type of man someone is by the way they treat their wimmen-folk. And a real man don't hurt a woman."

When Ethan had heard that the Stanton lady had been injured, that really angered him. Men could defend themselves. A woman, taken unawares by someone much stronger and much more powerful, wouldn't stand much of a fighting chance. Covering up incriminating evidence was one thing – physically injuring a female witness was another. You just don't raise your hand agin' a female.

That was a line Ethan refused to cross.

And while he couldn't prove that Gowen had crossed that line, he knew instinctively that he had.

And the _only_ way to stop Gowen was in his hands. The man was too careful to leave any evidence lying around, especially after Mrs Stanton blatantly stole that file from under Ethan's nose. He grinned a little.

Gotta admire that lady's gumption. Not many people would be brave enough to sweep into the executive director's office and steal his personal file and then leave biscuits. That's a lady after my mama's heart, he thought.

Sighing, he put his hat back on his head, left Gowen's office, and started to head to the saloon. He had to get this done quickly; the sun was going down and Gowen had him working tonight. Best get this nasty business done now. 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: _In Which We Actually Get the Plot Moving… Again_

"This smells." Came a very disgruntled complaint from Jack.

"Compost usually does," Bill chuckled. "Never said this was going to be enjoyable now, did I?"

"I knew there was a reason I didn't like you some days," Jack grumbled.

"Constable Thornton," Avery's blue eyes twinkled, "doing the right thing isn't supposed to easy. You, of all people, should know that more than anyone. Remember that whole Tolliver gang incident?"

"At least the Tolliver gang didn't smell like manure. And Elizabeth was there." Jack pointed out.

His companion chuckled, "Fair enough." He looked up at the sky, dashes of aqua blue peeking out from the steel grey of the skies. The wind was fairly mild – and Bill took a deep breath.

He always did love the smell of the pine and the sound of the wind skipping through the trees. There was nothing quite like the Northern sky in coal country. As harsh as the country could be in winter, that harshness was much surpassed by the country's beauty in autumn, spring, and summer. Much like life, Coal Valley had a sometimes jarring juxtaposition of harshness and beauty. He may hate the reason for his presence here – the death of those forty-six men – but he had been more than compensated by the beauty of the landscape and of some of its inhabitants.

Speaking of the beauty of Coal Valley's inhabitants, Bill couldn't stop his thoughts from dwelling on Abigail Stanton. The thought of anyone harming a hair on her head simply enraged him. What kind of man, he asked himself, would harm a woman just to save his own skin? A man, apparently, who was not troubled by the deaths of forty six men – who openly speculated about the "frivolity" of Avery's investigation. Bill knew Gowen had a hand in this but realistically he realized that he probably would never be able to prove it.

His security men were pretty tight-lipped from what he had observed. However, Bill had a sudden thought, I wonder if it was possible that one of them may not be happy with Gowen's latest moves. Surely _one_ of them would have objected – or at least not partaken in – Abigail's kidnapping. _Well, Gowen_, he thought, _you just might have a weakness after all_.

For a moment, he had a flash of humor and thought about letting Jack dig around a bit longer. It was amusing to see the Constable make very disgusted faces at the compost heat, despite wearing protective gear. Bill had to tamp down the impish streak of boyish humor that urged him to _let Jack keep digging_.

However, he realized how high the stakes were in this and that he needed to act on his theory quickly. The first twenty-four hours of Jedidiah's forty-eight hour deadline were coming rapidly to a close and he needed to make progress quickly. _I'm not a praying man_, he said to himself, _but, Lord, we need a miracle_ _and we need it quickly_. _Forty-six men are dead, a good woman is incapacitated, and the reputations of good people are being dragged through the mud_. _We need this treachery and deception to end and for Abigail to be healed. Coal Valley needs her_.

And since Bill was being completely honest with himself (might as well since no one else was around in his head), he was beginning to realize that he needed her too. It had been such a short time since they had met but simply from getting to know her on her own merits, learning about her from her various loyal friends, he had quickly become smitten with the strong widow.

Losing Mary and John had crushed his spirit and for years he had thrown himself into his work, hoping beyond hope that the satisfaction of bringing evil-doers to justice would help ease the sting of the pain of loss. But after years had passed, he had found himself feeling a terrible sense of isolation and loneliness. Justice may be food for the soul, he thought, but it was a cold companion for those long winter nights. And, as he had told Abigail when he first met her, he had "long since wanted someone with whom to share his thoughts."

He and Mary might not always have agreed on everything (in fact, most couples don't agree on everything) but he had loved her with all the intense fire of a youthful first love. And while Bill still valued – and wanted – passion, the fierceness of being "in love" came second to fidelity, loyalty, strength and courage.

He remembered the vows he and Mary had spoken at their wedding day, when they were in the full blush of their youth and not totally aware of the big undertaking their wedded life would turn out to be. "_Will you love her, comfort her, honor and protect her, honor her and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"*1_

_I will._ Bill meant it then, he meant the years they were together, and he meant it even in the long years after she and John were gone. A vow was not something he made lightly, although he may not have fully understood what it would have demanded from him at the time. _A gentleman_, his mother used to tell him, _always keeps his word_.

"Constable," he said, "I have an idea."

"And what's that?" Jack grunted, still digging around in the muck. "I could use a little help here."

"You might like this idea," Bill grinned, "it still involves digging but not in the compost heap."

Jack smiled, "That's the best thing I've heard all day. What did you have in mind, Inspector?"

"I'm thinking we can pay a call on one of those Pinkerton men," Bill said thoughtfully, "Gowen might not break but maybe one of those men might."

Jack looked skeptical, "You're referring to one of those men who attacked you, correct? Because I don't think they'll just confess to that…"

Bill looked a bit impatient, "Use your head, Constable. There were two men who attacked me that night. Gowen has at least four or five. Conceivably, there is one among them that will have found the idea of kidnapping and hurting a defenseless woman distasteful."

Jack looked thoughtful, "This idea seems feasible under the assumption that Gowen employs men who are honorable. I'm not sure I'm willing to accept that assumption."

"Nor am I," Bill reassured him, "but it's an idea. We don't have a lot of time. And, truth be told, it may be more fruitful than digging around in the compost heap. And a bit tidier."

Jack's nose wrinkled in disgust, "You have a good point."

He looked at Bill, "It might be a good idea to start with one of the men that was with Gowen when he was burning those papers. One of them didn't look entirely comfortable."

Bill looked interested, "Do you remember his name?"

Jack wracked his brain. Then snapped his finger. "Richardson." He said, "I don't remember his first name but Richardson is his last name."

"Then I think we need to be payin' Mr. Richardson a call." Bill smiled, "Don't you?"

"I'd be more than happy to assist you with that, Inspector. Do you mind if we stop in at Abigail's café on the way?"

"I think I can spare a few minutes," Bill said, "I'd like to see how Abigail is doing. But we can't linger too long."

A sudden pungent odor prompted Bill to give a Jack a blunt reminder. "Constable," he said delicately, "you might want remove those gloves and that coat before we greet the ladies. They smell, well, of manure."

"A little like Gowen, I'm sure." Jack grumbled.

"Yes, well, I don't think Abigail needs any more reminders of that man." Bill said.

"Agreed."

Bill and Jack quickly stopped at their respective rooms to shed themselves of the vestiges of the compost heap. Neither of them wanted to greet the women reeking of the stench of manure. Thankfully, both of them had been wearing protective garb so a thorough hand washing and change of shirt and jacket was sufficient to eliminate the smell from their bodies.

When they stopped by the café, the lights were on. Due to Abigail's condition, the café had been closed until she was back at her normal strength. Elizabeth taught school during the day and Mrs. Blakely had been watching Cat's young 'uns while Cat had been nursing Abigail. That was the wonderful thing about Coal Valley, Jack reflected, the people were special. When one of their own was in crisis, they never failed to help that person out.

Bill gently rapped on the door.

"Hello, Inspector Avery," Elizabeth greeted him warmly, "what can I do for you?" She then caught sight of Jack and her face started glowing like a Roman candle. "Good afternoon, Jack."

"Good afternoon, Elizabeth." Jack smiled. Bill struggled to hold back a smile. The two young people were so obviously in the first throes of love; he remembered those halcyon days himself.

"Is Mrs. Stanton available?" Bill asked.

"She's been resting," Elizabeth informed him, "but I believe she'd like to see you. Come in, both of you."

"We can't stay long," Bill told her, "we have a deadline on the results of the investigation and the clock is ticking."

"I understand," she said. "Cat has stepped out for a moment to check on her children, but I can take you to her."

"Can I help you with anything, Elizabeth?" Jack asked eagerly. Bill smiled to himself.

"Can you cook?" She teased.

"Not well," Jack confessed, "I draw, though. Will that do?" He grinned.

"Unless your drawings somehow magically turn into tonight's dinner," Elizabeth smiled teasingly, "I don't think they'll be very useful."

"I'm a Constable, not a miracle-worker." He protested with a grin.

"Well, I am sure your ability to protect us all will be very helpful at dinnertime." Elizabeth couldn't resist teasing him some more.

"I see you've taken up comedy as a hobby," Jack teased back.

"A teacher always must have a healthy sense of humor." Elizabeth said solemnly, a light of mischief in her eye.

She opened the door. "One moment, please." She turned to Bill. "I just want to make sure she feels like having a visitor. It's been a challenging day."

Bill asked her quietly, "And her memory?"

"Mostly returned," Elizabeth said, with a slight smile, "apparently her subconscious dread of my biscuits helped trigger some of her memories. Cat did tell me that there may be some gaps, though, at least for a while. But it's a very hopeful sign that she is remembering so quickly – there was less damage in that blow than we had feared."

Bill felt the tight grip that had been on his chest since Abigail's kidnapping ease. "Thank you, Miss Thatcher." He acknowledged her response with gratitude.

He stepped in the room. Abigail was sitting up in bed, her shawl around her shoulders and her hair in a loose braid over her shoulder. She looked more youthful than he had ever seen her look before and for a moment he lost his ability to speak. _William Edward Avery_, he thought to himself, _you are not a callow schoolboy. Do remember that you're a Mountie._

"Good evening, Abigail, if I may still call you that?" He said hesitantly, for the first time, unsure of himself.

"You may, Bill," she smiled, "I can remember you now."

He seated himself down in a chair by her bedside, "I'm glad to hear that. I've been rather at a loss without your doctoring skills."

Abigail chuckled, "I think you must be mistaken – it's my cooking that you miss, my doctoring "skills" as you call them are hardly much more than simple stitchery."

"Nonsense, they were superb." He contradicted her gallantly.

Abigail blushed and for a moment there was a little bit of a silence. A little awkwardness as the two of them struggled to regain some of the ground lost by her memory loss.

"How are you feeling?" He asked gently, his eyes soft in concern.

"My head hurts still," Abigail admitted candidly, "and I've had a slight fever this afternoon – but I am doing much better than when I was earlier."

"It's a relief for me to hear that you're doing better. You had us all concerned." Bill said, his eyes intense.

"I certainly am sorry for that." She said apologetically.

"Not to worry," he replied, "I'm just glad you're doing better. I can't stay long as Constable Thornton and I have business with some persons of interest. Judge Black was kind enough to give us a forty-eight hour stay on the trial."

"That's such a short period of time," she said worriedly, "have you made much progress?"

"We've made some," he said, "I have a good potential lead. We – Constable Thornton and I – thought we would stop by and check on your condition before we talked to a person of interest."

"That was thoughtful of both of you," she smiled.

As the two of them were talking, Jack and Elizabeth stood near the door way, at a discrete chaperoning distance.

Elizabeth looked at her friend's face, lit up with enthusiasm and her sweet smile.

"I think Inspector Avery has more than a passing interest in Abigail," she observed to Jack.

"Yes," Jack agreed, "it does appear that he is _invested emotionally in her well-being_." Elizabeth giggled a little as he made a joking reference to what Julia had said to her during one of their talks.

"I just hope this friendship doesn't hurt her." Elizabeth said worriedly. "I know it's been a while since you've seen him and sometimes people change." _Or sometimes they come back when you don't want them to_, she thought, _thanks, Rosemary_.

Jack looked thoughtful. "He won't do anything to deliberately hurt Abigail." He said slowly. "He's a good man – but he has his fair share of past sorrows and burdens. More than that, I'm not at liberty to say."

"You don't need to say anything else." Elizabeth said, "Although I may have lost faith in you at some points, I trust your judgment now."

Jack turned to Elizabeth, "I should go. Inspector Avery and I have some business tonight." He took her hand, raised and kissed it.

She blushed. "Stay safe, Jack."

"I will."

Jack went into the room and coughed quietly.

"Inspector," he said, "we should be going."

Bill glanced up quickly. "Of course, Constable. Thank you for the reminder."

He turned to Abigail as Jack stepped back to give them a little privacy.

"Stay safe, Bill," Abigail said, "I don't want anything further happening to you on my account."

"_The lengths I go to for you to fuss over me."* _He smiled at her. "Let me fuss over you for a change."

Abigail turned a light pink.

"We will speak again soon, Abigail." Bill said in a soft voice.

"About fussing?" She teased.

"Among other things." Bill smiled. "Take care."

_Author notes: Awww, aren't Jack and Elizabeth so sweet? And it's becoming so obvious to me that Bill is completely smitten with Abigail. But as we all know, the course of love never did run smooth so stay tuned…._

1 The Marriage Service, _The Book of Common Prayer_, Church of England


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: _Interlude_

_Disclaimer: _**These characters are not mine. They belong to Janette Oke, Michael Landon, Jr, Brian Bird and those involved with the creation of When Calls the Heart. Dialogue or lines in italics and starred indicate exact and/or loosely paraphrased quotes from the series.**

Abigail smiled to herself.

Her head hurt, her heart hurt. Having to remember losing Noah and Peter all over again hurt more than she ever thought possible. It was one thing to lose them the first time but having to go through "forgetting" them and then remembering them again?

For one bright moment, she thought her life was still intact; that she still had her purpose. But then she remembered what she told Elizabeth; "_I'm no longer a wife; no longer a mother – just struggling to find my purpose_."** What was her life, after all? She had no children; no real tie keeping her to Coal Valley. Was her cafe the only purpose for her life now?

She missed being married. She missed companionship. She could not blame Mary for wanting to find stability and someone to care for her and Caleb. If things had turned out a bit differently, she may have wanted the same thing for her and Peter. But not even Peter was around now. And the emptiness of loss was still so raw, so painful.

A large part of her yearned so desperately for that knight in shining armor. Abigail was only human and, in reality, was still young enough to marry again. But not necessarily young enough to have children. If she was being realistic, Abigail realized that she may not have another child. The thought broke her heart. She missed being a mother; she missed being a companion for someone.

Her life with Noah wasn't perfect but it was complete. They worshipped together, loved together, raised a child together. Did they have their issues? Of course; but everyone did. She still remembered the words they said to one another, words taken from the Church of England Book of Common Prayer; words she personally loved.

"_Abigail Caroline, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, __comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; __and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you __both shall live?"_

She fingered her ring as she whispered, "_I will_." She had meant those words the day she spoke them; she had meant them the years of her marriage; and she meant them in the long, cold months after the deaths of Noah and Peter.

She remembered the preacher enjoining them:

"_The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort __given one another in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is __God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture __in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is __not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, __deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it __was instituted by God."1_

Tears filled her eyes. She knew that she had a fulfilling life; a life with friends who loved her; a life blessed beyond all telling. But why did she feel that she was lacking something? Abigail thought of the soft glow on Mary's face when speaking of her friendship with Mr. Graves, the joy on Carla's face when she saw her twins for the first time, and now Elizabeth's budding relationship with Jack Thornton. So much happiness and so much to celebrate.  
Why did she feel so alone?

She went to the mirror, unloosed the braid from its plait, and thought about Bill Avery. The very thought of him made her heart feel at ease. From the moment he had stepped into her cafe, she had known he was different. Not simply from the way he carried himself, tall and erect (that distinctive Mountie carriage) – but from the way the room brightened just a bit more when he was around.

At first, she was very taken aback by how forward he seemed. He was engaging, open, friendly and remarkably good at getting her to talk about herself. "_I have to apologize for that," _he had said, "_in my job I tend to make people talk." _** She had then made a quip about him being a ventriloquist. "_Well_," he replied, with a smile, "_wouldn't that mean I'd be putting words INTO your mouth?_"** Abigail had relaxed a little after that.

And soon she had almost forgotten why he was there in the first place. He was remarkably good with a joke; had a wry sense of humor that she felt was very appealing. She had also been very touched at the way he had helped Mr. Cain down the steps; that was not something a dishonorable person would do. Henry Gowen might have been very flattering to her personally – but Abigail wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to flatter her into silence or get something out of her. She had never seen Gowen behave in a thoughtful way to anyone else – unless he felt that he could benefit from it in some way.

Abigail trusted her instinct; and her instinct told her that Bill Avery was no way like Henry Gowen. In one of their first conversation, he had told her quite clearly that he was here to get justice for her and the other families that had been permanently shattered by the loss of their husbands and fathers. It was at that moment that she knew she could trust him – Bill was a man she could believe in. And, as they got to know one another better, he was a man Abigail was starting to feel that she could love.

But what about that mysterious ring? And the photograph? How did those fit in?

She was certain beyond a doubt that there was some story there. There had been times when she had said something, that she had seen a shadow cross his eyes. A shadow of some lingering sadness and pain. Whoever those people were in that photograph, he must love them dearly, she thought. And what she wouldn't give to be loved like that again….

Remembering her instructions to Elizabeth when Rosemary first made her unpleasant appearance in Coal Valley, Abigail struggled to keep in mind that _things were not always as they seemed_.** What the untold story meant for the future of their friendship, Abigail had no idea. But she put her faith in her God, as she always did. And trusted Him to make things right.

1 _The Online Book of Common Prayer_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: _Confrontation and Explanation_

"Do you know where the Pinkertons generally reside," Bill asked Jack.

"I knew Spurlock had that cabin – where we found Abigail," Jack responded, "but I'm guessing that the others have rooms at the saloon. There really aren't too many more houses in town other than ones occupied by the townspeople."

"You'd think that Gowen would give his men enough of a decent pay to be able to afford to live in an actual house of some type."

"When have we ever known Gowen to do anything nice for anybody?" Bill asked wryly.

"Point taken."

Bill and Jack stepped into the saloon. Again, it looked like the night was going to be a busy one. The bartender already was filling up several glasses of whiskey for work-weary (and life-weary) miners. Bill was somewhat relieved not to see Jedidiah Black bellied up to the bar – he had a slight feeling that he may have been on the receiving end of some of Black's rather pointed questions and right now he just wanted to deal with Richardson.

"Barkeep," he asked. "Have you seen Ethan Richardson?"

"You mean one of them Pinkerton fellas?" the barkeep asked.

"Yes, the one that looks like he might be in charge of them."

"Well," the barkeep said slowly, "seems like I just seen him a few minutes ago. Didn't see 'zactly where he was headed but mebbe towards the jail?"

Jack and Bill looked at each other, slightly confused, "Why would he be heading there?"

"As I said," the barkeep shrugged, "I don't rightly know. What people do on their own time's their own business. I just listen and pour drinks."

Bill looked slightly frustrated. "Thanks for your time. Jack," he turned to the Constable, "let's take a walk down to the jail, shall we?"

Walking out of the saloon, Jack speculated out loud; "I wonder what Richardson could be doing at the jail?"

Bill frowned, "Nothing good, I'd presume. He knows you're working with me on this investigation. I'm sure you left no incriminating documents in unsafe places but I don't like the idea of a Gowen man sniffing around the jail. There's no reason for him to be there."

Jack nodded, "I rather agree with you."

They both picked up the pace; both wondering why Richardson had gone down to the jail and both suspicious of the Pinkerton's motives.

They arrived at the jail only to see Ethan just leaving.

"Richardson," Jack nodded.

"Thornton," Ethan greeted him civilly.

"What brings us the pleasure of your company?" Bill asked politely, but with underlying steel in his voice. It was the type of tone that clearly said _don't give me the wrong answer and I won't make you regret it_.

"Well, that's funny you should ask," Richardson replied coolly. "I was actually lookin' for you two gentlemen."

The first thought that crossed Jack's head was _what on earth for_ but he kept quiet, instinctively knowing that this was important.

Richardson continued, "There a place we could talk private-like? Not the saloon."

Jack barely refrained from rolling his eyes_. Obviously_.

Bill nodded. "There's no one in the jail at this point as you could see for yourself. We can talk there. Did anyone except the barkeep see you head in this direction."

"Naw," Richardson replied, "I aint supposed to work until later tonight. What we do on our private time is our own business. Gowen don't even interfere with that. I aint expected for a couple hours yet."

"Good," Bill said, "then we won't be disturbed."

The three men entered into the jail and Bill closed the door behind him.

"Now, Mr. Richardson," Bill said civilly, but with a no-nonsense tone in his voice, "what can we do for you?"

Ethan grimaced slightly, a little awkward. "Well, I wouldn't say it was about somethin' you kin do for me. It's more what I kin do for you."

Jack spoke up, clearly suspicious, "Why would you want to help us? And why should we trust you?"

Richardson looked like he had been expecting both of those questions.

"Well," he said, "I'll answer that second 'un first. Now I'm jist speculatin' here – and I could be wrong but, " he grinned, "I rather doubt that. I'm guessin' you're still a wee bit behind in your investigation with that forensic kit gone missin' and all."

"Yes," he raised his hand as Bill's face tightened, "I know all about that there missin' kit. Gowen tells us stuff, he does. Also, I'm acquainted with the perticulars of that there situation."

"Just answer me this," Bill asked, his voice icy cold, "were you involved in my assault?"

Ethan looked at him consideringly, "I didn't lay a hand on ye, if that's what yer gittin' at."

"That doesn't tell me that you weren't involved." Bill responded, somewhat angrily.

"Nope. It sure don't." Richardson agreed. "But we're not here to talk about that right now. Point is; I know where yer forensic kit is and I can get it fer you. But that's not all. I've got information that'd help yer Mrs. Stanton."

"Why are you telling us this now?" Jack demanded, "Why didn't you step forward sooner?"

"One question at a time." Ethan said abruptly. "We'll do this on my terms or we'll not do it all. I think you'll find I'm a fair man – jest don't push me."

"Depending on your terms, I think we can deal fairly with one another," Bill responded calmly. "Just tell us what you're looking for and we can see if we can make a deal. The explanation of the whys and why nots can come later."

"That's fair," Ethan agreed. "I'm not claimin' to be a perfect man, Inspector. I done some things I'm not rightly proud of."

"Including working for Henry Gowen?" Jack snipped, his frustration after days of stress finally rising to the surface.

"That aint fair," Ethan argued, "Gowen's been decent to me. I'll not fault the man that."

"Jack," Bill said quietly, "let's hear the man out."

Richardson gave Jack a hard stare, "As I was sayin' before th' hothead interrupted me…I done some things that I aint proud of. Stuff that aint good. I want some assurances that ye'll try to talk to th'judge t'get whatever punishment I get a little less rough-like. I aint wantin' prison for the rest of my life."

"We can't make any promises," Bill told him, "but I give you my word that I'll intercede for you with the judge if the information you provide us is worth our time and effort."

Ethan nodded, "I reckon I can agree to that."

Bill looked at him steadily. "Then we have a deal?"

"We have a deal." Ethan agreed.

"Then let me ask you the questions I need," Bill told him. "First of all, why did you decide to come forward now, after all this time?"

"Ya got to understand," Ethan said, "Henry Gowen may be many things but he's always treated me decent. I don't make no trouble; he don't give me none. But lately this investigation…things around it…been really bothering me. First of all, I don't cotton do hurtin' women – I never did it myself and I don't like people who do."

"So it was because of Abigail Stanton that you came forward?" Bill asked interestedly.

"That was part of it," Ethan said, "she's a nice lady who has never done nobody wrong. Regardless of what she did in taking Mr. Gowen's file…"

"Wait," Jack interrupted, "you knew about that?"

"Son," Ethan said, "I mean, Constable, I'm his head of security. I was there when he confronted your Mrs. Stanton about it. She had the file. No doubt about that. I don't hold with people taking other people's property – that aint right – but I know why she did it. And I don't blame her."

He turned back to Bill, "Inspector, I aint a good man. But hurtin' a woman goes against everything I believe in and stand for. Women and children don't belong in war."

"And Gowen sees this as war," Bill nodded understandingly and then asked, "Do you know if Gowen had something to do with Abigail's…I mean Mrs. Stanton's kidnapping?"

Ethan scratched his head, "I don't have proof. But I'm pretty sure he was behind it. Problem is, with Gowen, he knows how to cover his tracks real well. He aint going to leave a paper trail. So," he continued slowly, "I can't get him on that. But I can give you information that shows that Gowen knew about the unsafe conditions in the mines."

"And did nothing." Bill's eyes were less blue now and more of a shade of iron grey, like slate.

"And did nothing," Ethan affirmed.

Jack was livid, "You stood by and watch Gowen smear the reputation of a dead man and did nothing? How can you call yourself a gentleman?"

Ethan walked right over to Jack and got into his face, "Now, Constable," he said, speaking slowly and carefully, "I'll be forebearing granted that Mrs. Stanton's yer friend and all. But don't ever question my honor as a gentleman.

I've said before I've done things I'm not proud of doing. Some of them were definitely wrong and I'll admit that. But I'm doin' my best to make things right before too late. And do you even realize what's on the line for me? I will most likely lose my job if Gowen finds out – and possibly even more. That man knows how to make someone's life miserable if he knows they have crossed him. I have a lot to lose, understand?"

Jack nodded slowly, "I think I do. I apologize – I was out of line. It has been a stressful time on all of us."

Ethan accepted the apology, "I git that which is why I aint punching yer jaw."

Bill interjected quickly to ease some of the tension, "What do you have that can help us?"

Ethan reached inside his thick coat and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

"There was a night not too long ago," he said, "where Constables Thornton and O'Reilly interrupted Mr. Gowen and myself burning some documents. Yes," he said before they could speak, "I admit to doing that."

"You realize," Bill said slowly, "that you've just admitted to impeding an investigation."

"I do," Ethan said, "and I realize I'll be likely to be punished for that. But better that than continuing to help cover up what I found out."

He handed the papers over to Bill who started to read them.

"These are letters from Noah Stanton," he said, not completely surprised but a bit stunned.

"Aye," Ethan nodded. "Now I aint highly educated but I've had some schooling and those look like chemicals and such to me."

Bill kept looking through the papers, "They are notes of the levels of methane in the mine. From this it looks like he wrote Gowen about the increasing danger from that methane. How did you keep these?" He asked, now very curious.

"I put some aside when he wasn't lookin'," Richardson admitted. "I read through some of them since Gowen seemed extremely fearful of anyone getting a hold of them. Sparked my curiosity, as it were. And that's when I found out what was really going on. I had suspected but until I read some of them papers…I didn't know how deep Gowen's part in all of this had been.

And when I heard about what happened to Mrs. Stanton, I figgered Gowen had had something to do with it. But again I can't prove that – he kept me out of the discussions on this situation."

Bill looked at him, "These papers provide a very strong case that Henry Gowen was negligent in the deaths of those forty-six men. This may be enough evidence to land him behind bars. That having been said," he continued slowly, "what else do you know about my forensic kit having been taken?"

Richardson looked very uncomfortable.

"I was there," he admitted. "I was the one who took the kit."

Jack's eyes blazed with anger. "You assaulted a Mountie?"

"I didn't lay on a hand on the Inspector," Richardson said. "Th'others did that, not me. I simply took the kit."

"You realize that you've now admitted to impeding an investigation and cooperating in the theft of materials essential to an investigation." Bill said, "That's going to get you into quite a bit of trouble."

"I realize that," the Pinkerton admitted. "But I couldn't live with my conscience anymore. And I was hopin' you could talk t'the judge for me; maybe keep my name out of it. I'll take the punishment – I aint afraid of that."

Bill rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "It took courage for you to come to us tonight. And you are putting your safety and your job on the line. I'd expect I might be able to persuade the judge to show some leniency and possibly keep Gowen from finding out it was you who put the final nail in his coffin."

"I aint stupid," Richardson confessed, "I know he'll figger out sooner rather than later who stole more of his papers. I was really one of the few who had access to them and I knew more than anyone else what he was involved in. He'll put two and two together and get six."

"Again," Bill said, "I can't promise I can do much for you but Jedidiah Black is a fair man, tough (and harsh to many) but fair. I think I can say for certain that coming forward the way you have will weigh heavily in your favor."

Jack nodded, "I will certainly be more than willing to speak on your behalf."

"I appreciate that, gentlemen," Ethan said, "My only regret is that I didn't have the backbone to come forward sooner when I realized how deep Gowen was involved in this. And I shorely am sorry about Mrs. Stanton. I hope you can trust me when I say that I had nothing to do with that."

"I believe you," Bill said, smiling slightly. "If I didn't, you wouldn't still be standing."

"I have one question," Jack said, "do you still have the forensic kit?"

"I do," Ethan said, "and I can retrieve it for ya tonight if ya wish."

Bill nodded, "It'd be greatly appreciated. We need to get all this evidence over to Jedidiah Black. It might spare the town the discomfort of a long trial. The papers in conjunction with the evidence from the forensic kit may be solid enough to put Gowen behind bars where he can't hurt anyone any further."

Jack added, "It wouldn't make sense for us to put you in jail tonight anyway. If Gowen finds out you're in jail, he'll definitely wonder why you were talking to us. That could lead to serious ramifications for you."

Bill agreed, "I think it would be best for you that you act like everything's normal. Work your normal shift. We won't arrest you tonight."

Ethan was relieved, "I 'preciate that, Thornton, Inspector. I know I'll have to pay the piper when the bill comes around but I'm grateful for the delay."

"Thank you for coming to us tonight," Bill said, "we won't forget it."

"I just hope I could be of some help is all," Ethan said, "My mama always taught me that I'd be better off living in a humble cabin with a clean conscience than a big mansion with all the stuff money can buy."

"Your mother was a wise woman," Jack said.

"That she was," Ethan agreed. "I best be off – sun is down now and I think I can get the kit from my room without the wrong eyes seeing me."

"Where are you residing?" Bill asked him.

"At the saloon."

"I've got a room there myself," Bill said, "why don't you go over there and I'll meet you in an hour. Much less chance of you being seen carrying that thing around town. Wouldn't want Gowen to find out you've been casually strolling around with purloined evidence."

"That's an idea," Ethan said, "I reckon we can do it that way."

Bill and Jack stood up and walked Richardson to the door. "Appreciate your time tonight," Jack said, "and that you came forward when you did."

"I just wanted to help is all." Ethan said, "I hope you can make those charges stick. Gowen's a slippery one."

"With your help, we'll probably be able to do it." Bill said. "I will speak with you later."

"Until then." Ethan nodded. "Good night."

After Ethan left, Jack simply stared at Bill.

"Well," Bill said, "I'm really not a praying man but, Constable, I think we got our miracle tonight."

"What do you intend to do?" Jack asked.

"Well," Bill responded, "We have tonight and tomorrow to get things together for the trial. I'm hoping that with this evidence the trial will be pretty short."

"Those letters are pretty incriminating," Jack said, "I have to admit I was really surprised Richardson turned them over to us."

"Even in the roughest men there's still a kernel of virtue." Bill said, "I suspect Ethan Richardson has a lot more good in him than evil."

"Only a good man would have the guts to admit they did the wrong thing." Jack said.

"Just goes to show you that rarely are people are completely good or completely evil," Bill reflected. "Most of us are varying shades of grey."

"Gowen is probably nearing the blackest grey you can be without being totally black." Jack muttered.

"I would tend to agree with you there." Bill replied. "Well, my friend, I think your job with me is done for tonight. I'm sure you are fairly eager to see Miss Thatcher before you turn in, yes?"

Jack flushed a bit. "I _do_ have other duties than helping you and visiting with Elizabeth." He teasingly pointed out.

"Indeed?" Bill raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"I've forgotten how irritating your sense of humor could be," Jack grumbled.

Bill simply laughed.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: _The Courtship of Abigail Stanton_- Part One

Disclaimer: _As usual, I don't own these amazing characters. I gain no profit from this story – just the satisfaction that I can write my OWN happy ending for these folks while waiting for season two. (Because that's going to happen.)_

Synopsis of prior chapter – _Instead of wasting time searching for possible non-existent evidence in the compost heap, Bill and Jack decided to play on the conscience of one of Gowen's employees. Fortunately for them, Ethan Richardson, head of Gowen's security, has had a change of heart of his own and decides to assist them. Bill and Jack have just parted ways – and before Bill meets again with Richardson, he decides to pay Abigail an impromptu visit._

"It's a little late for a visit, isn't it, Inspector Avery?" Cat frowned slightly.

"Not terribly," he said, "I would hazard that it's a little bit before eight o'clock. Is Abigail asleep?"

"No," Cat said slowly, "not yet. I'm making her a cup of tea. Would you join me in the kitchen, please?

"Of course," Bill replied, "but I must warn you, I might burn the water. I don't cook."

Cat relaxed a little and chuckled, "So I've heard. Thank you," she said more seriously, "for your support of Abigail during this time. I know she's very appreciative."

Bill smiled, "It's no chore for me at all."

Cat searched his face closely and seemed to be satisfied with what she saw. "I'm sure it isn't – but what brings you here this late in the evening?"

"I can't get into specifics," he said apologetically, "it concerns the trial but I do have some news for her that I feel would bring her some hope."

"We certainly could use that around here." Cat said quietly, her face sober.

"Has something changed?" Bill's eyes were keen on her face, the investigator in him alerted to potential red flags.

"No," Cat replied. "I'm just concerned about Abigail." She bit her lip, wondering if she should continue and confide her troubles to the handsome inspector. She didn't want to betray her friend but, yet, she was concerned and she could tell how much Bill cared for Abigail.

Losing Noah _and_ Peter had devastated Abigail. They were her life, her world. With them Abigail had felt she had purpose. Now she was alone again. Cat remembered the nights and days of heartwrenching tears, the deep despair of suffering from that double loss. She herself remembered losing her husband and how hard that was but she still had her children. Abigail had lost everything.

And yet her friend was one of the most deeply compassionate and strong women that she had ever knew. Abigail could have completely broken in those dark days and weeks following the mine disaster but she held on. She clung to her faith in the dark shadows of the night, in the grey gloaming of the morning when the ghosts would come and speak to her of what if's, of maybes, and of giving into the blackness. But she faced those ghosts the way she faced working in the mine, day after day, with spirit and with courage.

Very rarely had she seen Abigail be uncertain or unsure of herself. And to Cat's infinite regret, she had seen it in her eyes when Cat had failed to stand up with her against Gowen. Although Abigail had not really discussed it since her memories had started to return, Cat could see the uncertainty, the hesitation, and the fear that Cat would not stand by her once her health had completely returned. And Cat bitterly regretted having put that uncertainty and sadness there.

She couldn't stand to see Abigail unhappy and lost.

"Could you keep this in confidence, please?" She asked, a little uncomfortable since she didn't really know him well and found opening up to a relative stranger jarring.

"Of course," Bill said quietly. He relaxed his stance to make her feel more at ease, a technique he had learned years ago when he had interviewed victims during the course of various investigations.

He watched Cat put the water on to boil and waited patiently. Pushing someone to reveal confidences was unproductive – he had time. He had told Richardson about an hour but the saloon was a quick walk away and wouldn't take long.

"I'm concerned about her," Cat said slowly, "while she seems to be recovering fairly well and regaining her memories, her spirit seems to be...well... subdued." She frowned in frustration, struggling to find the right words to convey what was troubling her mind. "Almost as if she has something on her mind. Something troubling her. And while that normally wouldn't be a concern for me, it's bothering her enough that I think it's slowing down her recovery."

"It was a pretty severe blow to the head," Bill mused, "don't you think that's the reason for her slow recovery – it's only been a day. She needs time."

"I realize that," Cat said, "and I know I'm not explaining myself well. But you seem to be one of the few people that can raise her spirits. She doesn't fully trust me again, yet -ever since that ghastly meeting with Mr. Gowen. And," she said softly, "I can't really blame her. I knew Gowen was lying and I was too frightened to make a public stand with her."

"I'm sure she's forgiven you that," Bill said, "she doesn't strike me as someone to hold a grudge against a friend."

"No, of course not," Cat smiled slightly, "I just don't think she's as comfortable around me because of that."

She took the boiling water and prepared the tea, an aromatic blend of chamomile and lavender and poured in some honey, gently stirring it. The odor reminded Bill of the North in the early spring time, with the crisp clean mountain wind stirring the trees and carrying the scent of blossoms in its wake.

"Just one moment while I let her know that you're here." she said quietly and quickly ascended the stairs.

Bill lifted the extra cup that Cat had prepared to his lips and inhaled the aroma. Once again, he was brought back to his youthful days when he and Mary would take picnics near the streams and he would help her gather different species of flowers native to that area, fairy-slippers, helleborines, and hooded lady's tresses. There was nothing more calming to the soul than clean air and the sparkle of sun like diamonds on small wooded streams.

_They are not long, the days of wine and roses_

_Out of a misty dream_

_Our path emerges for a while, then closes_

_Within a dream. 1_

How short were those days of his youth – and how bitterly those days of "wine and roses" had ended. But it seems as if Coal Valley might be giving him a new start.

Coal Valley – the town of second chances. Seemed an apt motto for it.

"Inspector?" Cat's voice interrupted his rather melancholy musings. "She'd be happy to see you. Just don't keep her awake too much longer. She needs her rest."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Montgomery," Bill smiled, "the last thing I want to do is cause Abigail any further discomfort."

He walked up the stairs and opened the door to the small sitting room. The room itself wasn't very large – just a small salon, enough to hold a couple people comfortably. Abigail was sitting at the table, her hands cupped around her tea.

"Bill," she smiled warmly, "what brings you here twice in one day?"

"Do I have to have a reason except to see you?" He smiled softly.

"Well," she said, blushing profusely, "you do have a deadline on your investigation. Why are you wasting your time with me?"

Bill sat down across from her and took her hand.

Abigail was surprised but not displeased.

"Let me be clear on one thing," he said, "talking with you is never a waste of my time."

Abigail smiled apologetically, "I meant no unkindness. I just didn't want you to lose valuable time."

"We'll be fine. I've had some leads that are proving very fruitful." He smiled. "We might get you that justice sooner than you anticipated."

A smile lit her face like the noonday sun on a summer day. It was one the most beautiful things he had seen and the hard knot that had been wrapped around his heart for so many years loosened a little bit more. _Wait_, he said, _get a hold of yourself. Are you fifty-two or TWENTY-two?_

"That's wonderful," she said, "was that what you came here to tell me?"

"In part, yes," Bill said, "but there is something else on my mind."

Abigail now was very curious. "Well," she smiled, "are you going to tell me now or tease me and keep me in suspense?"

"Keeping you in suspense _is_ tempting, I suppose." Bill grinned. "But, no, I'll not do that to you."

He cleared his throat. "Do you remember the other day when I asked you to bring the witness list from my saddle bags?"

"Yes," Abigail said slowly, not sure if she liked where this was headed.

"You saw that photograph and ring, didn't you?" She started to say something but Bill continued, "It's all-right if you did, I know you weren't snooping."

"Yes," Abigail agreed, "I apparently only snoop around when it has to do with Henry Gowen."

Bill chuckled, "And in that area, Abigail, I must say you are an expert."

He became serious again. "That ring and that photograph… it's not what you may have thought. I have not been forthcoming with you – partly because as an investigator, I've learned (through bitter experience) to keep my private life extremely private. I've not opened up with many people; in fact, Jack Thornton is one of the very few who knows my story and he didn't even know until recently."

"The truth is," he continued, "I had a wife and son."

"But you told me you didn't." Abigail said, stunned.

"Actually, what you asked me was "_do you have a wife_?** I responded that I did not have one. Which is the truth. You never asked me if I had been married."

Abigail simply gave him a look which clearly said she wasn't buying it. "You dodged the question."

"A little bit, yes," Bill confessed, "and I apologize if I may have misled you. It belongs to a time in my life which is not easy for me to talk about or to think about."

Abigail saw the deep look of pain in his eyes. "I can understand that," she said, "the days following Noah and Peter's death were the most painful of my life. I never wanted to talk about it – the only person I could really open up to at that point was Cat Montgomery. So I can't blame you for not wanting to reopen old wounds."

"Be that as it may," Bill responded, "I need to be honest with you. Abigail, the moment I walked into your café, I found you intriguing. I have truly enjoyed getting to know you."

"And I you," she smiled, "despite the little lapse in my memory of who you actually were."

"Well," Bill said, "there were external factors outside of your control that contributed to that."

For a moment there was silence. Abigail sipped her tea slowly, waiting for Bill to continue.

"I like you, Abigail," he said honestly, his eyes clear and steady. "I want to court you. But before I do that, you need to know about Mary and John. For too long I have closed myself off from caring for another person the way I cared about my wife. I told you before that it _would be nice to find someone with whom to share my thoughts**_ - and it's true. That's something I have been missing in my life for a long time. And something I would like to have again."

Abigail was moved. "I told Elizabeth once that _I was no longer a wife, no longer a mother_** - that I _was just struggling to find my purpose_.** It has been very challenging for me to find a place where I do have that sense of purpose. This café and helping people in Coal Valley has been a good start. But I too have missed that companionship. I look at Mary and Mr. Graves and I have found myself more and more wanting that for myself. But my first priority has been and will be getting justice and repairing my husband's memory."

"And I meant what I said when I told you I _meant to get you that justice_**." Bill said. "That is what brought me to Coal Valley and I'll not abandon that now. I just want you to know how I feel and what my intentions are. I'm an honorable man, Abigail, give me a chance."

Abigail was considering, "Can you tell me about your wife and son, then?" She almost regretted asking him when she saw the deep pain in his eyes. And the lines around his face deepened as he remembered.

But he started telling her, beginning from their earliest '_courtshippin**_' days and his beginning years in the Mounties.

Her heart ached for him as he told her about the tragedy that had led him to a town similar to Coal Valley. The story began to sound all too familiar as he described the warnings, the threats, the escalation to threats and then the beating. She shuddered and was grateful that she could not remember much of that terrible night in the cabin.

And, finally, when he described how his wife and son had died, she couldn't help the tears running down her face. To lose your family in an accident due to horrific negligence was one thing – to have them murdered in order to stop an investigation was a whole different story.

By this time, Bill had completely forgotten about his tea; it sat there on the table, quickly growing cold. His eyes were tired and pained and _old_. And, more than anything in the world, at that moment Abigail wanted to help take some of that burden away. He had been carrying it for so long; her pain was still relatively recent.

However, although her loss was relatively recent in comparison, she knew that Noah would not have wanted her to spend her life mourning him. "_If somethin' ever happens to me, darlin',_" he told her, "_don't waste your life weepin' over me. We've had a good life together, you and I and if it ever comes time for me to meet my Maker, don't shut yerself away. You deserve more out of life than that_. _And so does Peter._"

She reached across the table and touched his hand. "She was very lucky to have had you, Bill. You must know that she loved you tremendously."

"Yes, I know." He said sadly.

"And you cannot blame yourself for the actions of a criminal. It was that man's decision that ended the life of your wife and son _not_ yours. You know your wife would probably say the same."

"That's easy to say," Bill said quietly, "not as easy to carry out in practice."

Abigail spoke as if she had just made a decision. And in a way, she had.

"Bill," she said softly, "you and I lost our loved ones in horrible ways. But they are gone now and neither of us can spend our time _mourning the past_**. As Elizabeth would say, we need to look _to the future.**_ _Our _future. Neither Noah nor Mary would want us to bury ourselves in the graves with them. All we can do is respect their wishes and honor their memories. And, in my case, restore my husband's good name."

"I was thinking earlier that Coal Valley should be called the town of second chances." Bill smiled faintly.

"I think a second chance is what is being given to us now," Abigail said gently, "and we would do our loved ones a disservice if we didn't respect their wishes. Wouldn't you think?"

Bill looked at her and smiled, "You're a wise woman, Abigail Stanton."

"Not wise," she smiled back, "just experienced."

"So," he inquired, "what do you think of my earlier question?"

"Which one?" she teased, "There were so many and at so many different times."

"The question about courtship." Bill grinned.

"I don't think you actually _asked_ me about courting me," she laughed. "I think you may have just _told_ me that's what _you_ wanted."

"My deepest apologies," Bill made a mocking half-bow, smiling, then turned serious.

"Abigail Stanton," he said quietly, "I would very much like to court you, if you'd be so inclined."

"Bill Avery," she smiled sweetly, "I would very much like the pleasure of your courtship. But," she said seriously, "as you know – the first priority now must be getting justice for the families of the Coal Valley miners."

"That has been – and always will be – my first aim here." Bill said seriously. "When I first came to Coal Valley, my sole purpose was to get justice for those men and their families. That hasn't changed. But I have another reason for staying now – and that reason is you."

Abigail almost felt guilty that she felt so much happiness at that moment. She knew that there was still much to do in clearing Noah's name and making sure Gowen paid for what he had failed to do. Yet, her heart felt lighter than it had in months. _If this is how Mary felt when Dewitt looked at her_, she thought, _I can understand why she's so happy. I never thought I would have a second chance at companionship; Lord, thank you for your abundant mercies._

Bill stood up to bid her farewell. "Abigail, please don't concern yourself any further about the investigation and trial. You have done more than most would have done in your position and you have paid a high enough price. I care about you too much to let anything else happen to you."

She came over to him and touched his arm, "I trust that you will do the honorable thing. You're a good man, Bill Avery, and I am grateful for you."

He smiled softly at her, "And I for you." Gently and cautiously, being mindful of her bruises, he took her into his arms and kissed her firmly. It was a tender kiss and strong; full of promise of future passion and joy.

Abigail closed her eyes, relaxed in Bill's arms, and opened her heart to the promise of future love and passion.

_How blessed I am_, she thought, _to be with this man in this moment. Thank you, Noah, for watching over me, for loving me. I know you are happy where you are and I thank you for giving me permission to be happy again. I will never forget you or the life we built together. And I will always love you._

She opened her eyes and looked up at Bill. The pain in his eyes when he had talked about his family had cleared to reveal peace and contentment.

"Since losing my family, I haven't been a praying man." he told her. "But I prayed to God for a miracle when I thought I had lost you. And He gave me a second chance."

She touched his face tenderly, "He has given us both second chances. Let's make sure we make good on that mercy."

1 Ernest Dowson – _Vita Summa Brevis_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: _Postlude to a Kiss_

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's note: _The kiss in chapter nineteen may seem a little OOC given how conservative the courtship "rules" were for that time. But Abigail's had a rough enough time of it and she and Bill have both been through enough pain and misery so I thought she needed something good. _

When Bill finally left Abigail, Cat noticed a difference in his demeanor. It wasn't very dramatic and had she not been keenly observing both Abigail and Bill, she may not have noticed it. His eyes had a look of peace. A peace that reminded her of the look she used to wear in her eyes – when she was young, in love, and the darkness and pain of tragedy had not touched her life.

Bill nodded to her as he left, "Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Montgomery." He smiled.

"You have a nice day now, Inspector." She smiled cordially in return.

"I will now," he responded, with a slight grin.

Now Cat had to find out what had transpired. As soon as Bill was safely away from the café and not looking back, she quickly ascended the stair case and rapped lightly on Abigail's room.

"It's Cat," she said quickly, "may I come in?"

"Of course," Abigail answered the door, a hint of reserve still in her face. Although Cat had shown her loving attention while she was recovering, there was a small part of her that still wasn't quite ready to forget that Cat had not been publicly supportive of her. Although she understood it, a part of her had been hurt by it and she wasn't willing to go through that again.

Cat noticed.

"Abigail," she said hesitantly, "can we talk?"

"Of course," Abigail's smile showed a bit more warmth - she sensed that Cat was feeling as awkward as she was.

"I know we really have not talked lately – since your abduction." Cat said slowly. "I didn't want to disturb you during your recovery. I've nursed a young 'un or two through injuries like yours and I knew you needed your rest."

Abigail nodded and just waited for her to continue.

"I wanted to apologize for the way I acted – or the way I _didn't_ act – at that meeting a few days ago." Cat said awkwardly. "Please understand – I've already been behind bars once and although it wasn't for very long, I've never forgotten it. The last thing I wanted to do was to get Henry Gowen's anger on me and my family. I was afraid. And I know that's no excuse – so I wanted to apologize. You have always been a good friend to me and my kin, and I'm not forgettin' that. You deserve better than the way I – and other women-folk – treated you at that meetin'. All of us know your Noah was a good man."

Abigail smiled, with tears in her eyes. "Your apology is accepted, Cat. I understand being afraid to speak up. It's not an easy thing to do – especially against a man like Henry Gowen."

Cat nodded, "He owns this town, Abigail. Florence pointed out that _he owns the streets we walk on._** He owns everything."

"He doesn't own _us_," Abigail said firmly. "He doesn't own who we are. Cat, he is the man responsible for the deaths of our husbands and for poor Adam Miller's condition. He is the _reason_ so many of us have to be both mother and father for our children. I know you're afraid – after the other night, I am too. But we have right on our side and I am confident and trustful that the truth _will_ have its day in court and the truth will win."

"I wish I had your confidence." Cat said, "I preach the Word every Sunday and yet I find myself still lacking in faith. And I am ashamed that I fall short."

"We all fall short," Abigail said, "in some way. It doesn't necessarily make us bad people – it just makes us human. But I forgive you, Cat. I know this hasn't been easy on any of us."

"No," Cat said, "it hasn't. And I have had a difficult time living with my conscience after the way I acted."

"Then let your conscience be at ease," Abigail told her, "we're human and make mistakes. I'm hardly perfect myself."

Cat smiled in relief, "Thank you – I know I don't deserve your forgiveness but I thank you for it. You must be tired so I won't take up any more of your time – you need your rest. Do you feel at all better today?"

"It's been a long day and difficult at moments," Abigail replied, "but I'm doing better. I'm more at peace and I have more hope. My head still aches, though."

"You know that's normal," Cat responded and then added with a teasing smile, "I do notice that Inspector Avery's visits have put you in better spirits."

Abigail blushed, "He's a good man."

Cat looked at her keenly, "And will you be courtin', then?"

Abigail smiled, "He asked to court me and I said yes."

"All I've got to say is that the man better treat you like you deserve. Not like that Henry Gowen – who was flatterin' you only to get his own way." Cat frowned.

"Bill is the exact opposite of Henry Gowen. He is, in many ways, so very much like my Noah." Abigail smiled fondly.

"Why, Abigail Stanton," Cat teased, "I do believe you may be smitten with the man."

Abigail laughed, "Cat Montgomery, I do believe I am."

Bill made his way quickly to the saloon. Visiting with Abigail had taken a bit longer than he had anticipated and he was eager to pick up his forensic kit from Richardson. That way he could put all of his evidence together in preparation for the trial. He was thankful that Black had given them that forty-eight hour reprieve – there would have been no other way for him to get that evidence otherwise.

_God bless Ethan Richardson_, Bill thought_. And here I thought there was a shortage in men with integrity. Now Jack and I can finally get justice for those miners. And for Abigail._

His eyes lit up when he thought about her. She truly was a special lady – with the type of courage that even many men lacked. _She's got the heart and the spine of a Mountie_, he thought to himself. With her instincts and her courage, she would make a good one. There was absolutely no question in his mind that Abigail Stanton would make a wonderful Mountie's wife. And if their courtship went as planned, that might be sooner rather than later.

_Why the haste?_ Some might ask. _You have all the time in the world. Courtship requires a lengthy amount of time to get to know one another. _He could just hear all the reasons against a short courtship echoing through his head, in the voices of companions (and ghosts) from his past.

Ten years was a long time to be without companionship. Bill had never planned on marrying again – after Mary and John died, he had completely shut himself off from any type of companionship. He didn't make friends; he even stopped communicating with old acquaintances. The only person he had had any real type of remaining connection with was Jack. And he had built his walls so high that even opening up to Jack had been painful and difficult.

People who had never experienced the loss of a spouse could never truly understand how painful it was to go from a life of rich and fulfilling (if not always perfect) companionship to a life of almost total solitude. He had had many well-meaning people suggest that he "move on", that "Mary would want him to be happy." At the time he had ignored them and completely balked at their suggestions.

That was the funny thing about grief that Bill remembered very well. For a long time, a big part of him felt guilty that he was still continuing with his life when they were gone. Any moment of happiness that he felt later caused him a good deal of guilt. What right did he have being happy when his wife and son were dead in the ground?

And even when he had first met Abigail, a part of him had felt guilt and struggled over his attraction to her. In his mind, it had felt like a betrayal to be attracted to someone else. That it meant he was beginning to forget how much his wife and son had meant to him.

But what Abigail had told him tonight, before they had kissed, had validated what he had been feeling since he arrived in Coal Valley. That everybody deserved a second chance, especially at love. And Abigail, in speaking of Noah, had reminded him of a fact he had long forgotten – that Mary had told him if there ever came a time that she was not around to care for him and John, that she did not want him to stay alone the rest of his life.

_Bless Coal Valley_, Bill thought, _for giving me another chance. _

_And God bless Jack Thornton for sending me that file._


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: _Reflections _

Bill hurried into the saloon and quickly scanned the room. Again, as usual, it was packed with the normal group of work-weary and life-weary miners who found their solace in a glass of rye whiskey. He saw neither Jedidiah lingering about nor did he see any other of Gowen's henchmen.

He went up the stairs quickly and knocked on the door to Richardson's room.

"Who is it?" A voice said gruffly, from behind the wooden oak of the door.

"Inspector Avery," Bill replied in a low voice, "you said you had something for me."

Ethan Richardson opened the door, with some suspicion, "Did anyone see you?"

"No," Bill reassured him, "I was careful. It wasn't a long walk and it looks like Gowen's men aren't out and about tonight."

"Oh, they are," Richardson said grimly, "jest not around here. They've got chores t'do, I reckon. I'm due over his office t'night in a bit. That aint going to be fun. I'm hopin' he won't notice those papers are gone until it's too late for him t'do anythin' about it."

Bill looked at him seriously, "I meant what I said at the jail. I will do my best for you with the judge and to keep Gowen from coming after you."

"Not really scared of Gowen" Richardson admitted, "I mean, he's like a rattler. Got a deadly bite but ya just gotta know how to handle him. I've been on my own for a long time. I kin take care of myself. I've handled worse." He did not mention to Bill how he had "handled worse" - no use digging up old skeletons and hangin' oneself unnecessarily.

Having handled his fair share of miscreants and villains over the years (including the monster that had destroyed his family), Bill could empathize. Life could be brutal in the north country. Need to grow up quickly.

"Here's your kit," Richardson handed it to him, after glancing quickly down the hall. "Nothin's been touched in there. I coulda destroyed it but decided not to – not sure why."

"I think that was your conscience kicking in," Bill said, "you're a decent man, Richardson."

"Naw," Richardson denied, "jest trying to right a wrong. No one should treat a lady like Mrs Stanton the way Gowen did. Wish I could get 'im on that."

"This is more important to her." Bill reassured him, "She would rather have justice for the dead miners in this town than justice for herself."

Richardson was impressed. "That's a good lady ya got there."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "That's just the type of lady she is – an honorable one."

"Oh, don't give me that disapprovin' look," Richardson scoffed, "I might not be no fancy Inspector 'n all but I have eyes and I also been doin' some listenin'. The town knows ya have a special friendship with the lady."

"The one downside of a small town," Bill smiled ruefully, "apparently I have no secrets."

"No," laughed Richardson, "ya really don't. Not here anyways."

"Well," Bill turned to leave, "I'm greatly obliged to you for your help."

Ethan nodded, "Inspector, be careful. Gowen hates you and as much as I think ya can handle him, I'm sure ya remember you've been told about what happens when ya corner a dog..."

"They bite," Bill said, "I remember. But thank you for the warning."

Ethan grunted in response and closed the door.

Bill looked consideringly at the door for a moment and then headed to his room. That Ethan Richardson... interesting man...but he had no time to unravel mysteries this late in the evening.

He had work still to do and the night was now getting late.

He opened the door to his small room and the light from the moon shone into his room. _You almost didn't need a lantern or candle tonight_, he thought. The moon's silver glow cast an ethereal light in the room, transforming the small and sparse bedroom. It wasn't a harsh glow – but soft, creating shadows that were less menacing than they were soft ghosts.

Speaking of ghosts... it was time Bill dealt with his one final time. 

The glimmer of the moonlight fell upon the picture of Mary and John, still standing on his bedside. He walked over to the desk and picked up the photograph and looked at it, lost in memories. _I will always love you_, he said silently to his wife, _and that will never change. But I have found a woman that I admire deeply. You would like her, I think – she reminds me of you in some ways. Thank you, Mary, for the time we had together. You know that I will never forget you but I believe it's time to let you and John go. Time for both of us to find our peace._

He had been told once long ago by his grandmother that departed loved ones would never rest in peace as long as their loved ones left behind roamed on earth in pain and constant sorrow. As an adult, he knew that was simply a legend, an old tale handed down to her by her rather mystical Irish ancestors. But he wondered now, in retrospect, whether there was not just a small grain of truth in that legend.__

There was a sharp pang in his heart when he admitted that it was time to let go. He knew the time was right – that she would have told him to let go a long time ago. Yet, a part of him hesitated – _was he truly ready?_ He sent up a silent prayer, seeking some kind of sign. Bill had not only never really been a fervently religious man, he also never had been the type to look for a mystical "sign."

He always had dealt in the concrete and the tangible. It had been his career for years to investigate the strange and unexplained. This whole seeking of some sign was new to him. He felt awkward and uncomfortable with the whole notion of "signs" but this was something he strongly felt inside that he needed to have. Maybe it was part of the grieving... a part that no one had explained to him. 

_Mary_, he asked silently, his heart full with the bittersweet realization that he would have to say goodbye a second time before he could give his heart to someone else without guilt, _let me know that it is all-right to move on._ _We had our moments of difficulty, 'tis true, but you and I had a wonderful life together. Both of us need to find our peace._

The window was open and the night was clear and still. The scent of the mountain air lingered on the night-winds and floated in with the beams of moonlight. The bustle of Coal Valley had quieted as the shroud of night had fallen over the town. Suddenly, Bill smelled a strong scent of mayflower – a plant not native to this part of Canada. But it had been a plant that Mary had particularly favored, with its small flowers and its particularly sweet odor. It was small and hidden and bloomed very briefly – rather much like Mary herself. 

The smell drifted into the room, becoming distinctly stronger. There were no flowers in Bill's room; and those flowers he had not seen anywhere near the town. _Maybe the scent was being carried over from the mountains_, he tried to explain it logically. But his heart and his head told him that was not likely, given where they normally grew. There was no logical explanation for this smell carrying so far.

He bent his head and touched the photograph again and thought to a poem he had once read: 

_Remember me when I am gone far away_

_Gone far away into the silent land_

_When you can no more hold me by the hand, _

_Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay. _

_Remember me when no more, day by day, _

_You tell me of our future that you planned: _

_Only remember me; you understand _

_It will be late to counsel then or pray. _

_Yet if you should forget me for a while _

_And afterwards remember, do not grieve: _

_For if the darkness and corruption leave _

_A vestige of the thoughts that I once had, _

_Better by far you should forget and smile _

_Than that you should remember and be sad.1_

_Thank you, Mary_, he said quietly, _may you and our son rest in God's peace. I will never forget you. Remember me as I will remember you._

And with those last words, he opened the desk drawer, took out a pouch, slid the photograph in it gently and placed it face down in the drawer. He cradled the ring gently in his hands for a moment and then slipped it into a smaller pouch.

He closed the drawer, took a deep breath of the air, the scent of mayflower2 becoming fainter and fainter as the winds carried it away. The wind's task was finished and it was time for him to start a new life.

_Goodbye, Mary and John. _

1Christina Georgina Rossetti – 1830-1894– _Remember _

2Read here about the mayflower: .

Also: article/may-flowers-memories-of-a-perfumed-secret-the-forest

It's conceivable Mary may have encountered the mayflower while on the East Coast.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22: _In Which Elizabeth Attempts to Make Breakfast And Jack Helps…A Bit_

_Disclaimer: _**I still own nothing**.

"Well, _that_ didn't go well." Elizabeth frowned at her biscuits.

Again, they were rock hard and practically inedible. _What am I doing wrong?_ She thought to herself. _Abigail makes this all look so easy and I mess it up every single time._

_I'm doing everything she told me to do… _Elizabeth had gotten up early that morning – around five o'clock – and had decided that it would be a good idea to try to prepare breakfast for Abigail before she left for school. All the homework corrections and assignments for the day had been done the night before so she had nothing left to do before she set off for class.

She also didn't have a long walk to the saloon. But she vividly remembered her previous baking and cooking attempts and had decided to give herself a couple hours to get things right. And Cat was busy taking care of her children before coming back to care for Abigail around six am – since Abigail was still fairly weak and in pain from her abduction.

Elizabeth glared at the biscuits. "Why won't you do what I want you to do?"

She huffed as a piece of her hair fell in her face. "Great. Now my hair isn't cooperating."

All of a sudden, she heard a knock on the door. "_Who_ is calling at this early hour? Cat's not supposed to be here yet."

She went quickly to the door and looked out the window…right into Jack's smiling face.

_He is WAY too cheerful in the early morning_, she groused.

"Good morning, Jack," she opened the door, "what brings you around this early? The café is closed and I just have learned how to make tea without burning the water so if you're expecting your usual coffee you will just have to make do without it." "Well," Jack raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth's minor bout of crabbiness, "good morning to you too."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth smiled apologetically, "I was up rather late last night and got up early this morning to make breakfast for Abigail. She has taught me how to make her biscuits but every time I do, they never come out correctly!"

"Why yes, I remember those," Jack winced, "they needed a little bit of work."

"Jack!" Elizabeth said indignantly.

"What?" Jack asked her, "Do you want me to lie? I thought you always wanted me to tell the truth."

"I did," Elizabeth replied, "but you could use a little more tact."

"I _was_ using a little more tact." Jack pointed out, with a grin.

Elizabeth simply gave him The Look. The Look has been used for thousands of years by put-upon women towards their men-folk. It usually meant _it might be a good idea for you to be quiet right about now._

Jack diplomatically said no more on the subject of Elizabeth's biscuits needing a "little more work."

"May I help you with those?" Jack asked, seeing that Elizabeth was a little bit frustrated.

"First of all, Abigail is asleep and no one is here to chaperone us. It wouldn't exactly be proper. Secondly, I thought you couldn't cook. Remember our first "date? Someone else cooked that food, if you remember." Elizabeth smiled, teasingly.

"I've been doing some practicing on my own since then – with some assistance." Jack winked.

"With _whose_ assistance, exactly?" Elizabeth asked.

"Every Mountie must have his secrets." Jack said, a little bit smugly.

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed in mock frustration.

"As for propriety," Jack continued, "shouldn't Cat Montgomery be here shortly?"

Elizabeth realized that the time was later than she had thought. "Yes, she will."

"Then I will stay and protect you until she arrives." Jack said with an air of satisfaction.

Elizabeth knew then she was not going to get rid of her handsome Mountie and actually she was a little happy about that. She truly liked spending time with Jack – he was beginning to mean a good deal to her. He was brave, loyal, handsome… _focus, Elizabeth_, she told herself, _you are here to make biscuits. _"Okay, Jack," she said, with a teasing air of challenge in her voice, "please show me what you have learned in the art of making biscuits."

Jack removed his hat and his dark wool coat.

"Well," he said, "let's get all the ingredients together."

Elizabeth pointed to the ingredients, "I've already tried to bake one batch," she said, "but as you can see, clearly they did not turn out well." Jack smiled a little but, wise man that he was, did not say one word.

She watched carefully as Jack prepared the mix for the biscuits.

"You realize I probably know who has been teaching you to make biscuits…" she started to say.

"Oh, I don't think you do." Jack grinned. "You might think you do but there are many women around here who can cook quite well."

A little spark of jealousy prompted Elizabeth to ask, "It wasn't Rosemary, was it?"

Jack gave her a _how could you ask me that_ look. "No. I had been practicing before she ever arrived on that stagecoach. Besides, her cooking skills are worse than…" Realizing what he had been about to say, Jack suddenly saw the wisdom of silence.

"Worse than mine – is _that_ what you're trying to say, Constable?" Elizabeth couldn't help but giggle a little at his obvious discomfort.

"No, I was going to say worse than Wendell Backus'." Jack made a valiant attempt to remove his foot from his mouth. "I think I'll just get back to baking here."

Elizabeth watched as he sifted the flour, baking powder and salt in a medium sized bowl. He then cut in shortening 4-5 tablespoons worth until it resembled the size of a large egg. The mixture then resembled something very similar to coarse crumbs.1

He put the buttermilk and baking soda into a separate bowl and mixed them. Adding the dry ingredients, he stirred the mixture until it was forming into a quasi-ball. He then gently kneaded the dough a few times. Jack turned to Elizabeth, "Part of the reason your biscuits may have been coming out so hard is because you may have kneaded the dough a bit too long. This person gave me the idea of only kneading it a few times."

He then gently used a cup to cut out the biscuits, put them in a cast iron skillet, and put them into the oven.

"There," he said, "these may end up tasting a little better."

Elizabeth looked a little shell-shocked. "How did you DO that?"

Jack gave her an enigmatic smile, "A little bit of practice. But you haven't tasted them yet so you don't know if you'll like them or not."

"I suppose I'll just have to find out," Elizabeth said. Just then the door opened and Cat Montgomery came in. "Constable Thornton," she said in surprise, "were we expecting you?"

"No ma'am," Jack said, "I was just doing my duty of protecting the citizens of this town."

Cat tried to smother a smile, "Well, Constable, I think your duty is finished here. I'm sure that two ladies can manage the next hour on their own. We thank you for your dedication to the safety of Coal Valley."

Jack blushed a bit, "Of course, ma'am." He put on his coat and hat.

"I'll see you later, Elizabeth." He then smiled again. "Don't forget to take out the biscuits."

Elizabeth scrambled to the oven.

"Not now," he grinned, "in about ten or fifteen minutes." She smiled, "It seems that you're an expert on cooking as well, Jack."

"You haven't tasted them yet," he said, "and I'm not an expert on cooking. Just an expert on biscuits."

He winked at her as he went out the door.

"Well, I never..." Elizabeth was a little exasperated, "he thinks he's an expert on biscuits, does he?"

She opened the oven door and took the biscuits out. They were a nice golden-honey color, fluffy and light looking.

"Oh my gosh," she said, again a bit stunned, "how much practicing has he been doing? These look wonderful."

"Don't stand there staring," Cat smiled, "try them. It'd be a shame to let such pretty biscuits go to waste."

Elizabeth cut a pad of butter and spread it over the slightly too-hot biscuit. Quickly, she blew on it to avoid scalding her mouth, like she'd done many times as a child when she was too eager for Cook's delicious goodies. 

She took a small bite. "Oh my goodness, these are DELICIOUS. How did he learn how to bake these? I love them...can I have another... maybe I'll just eat ten..."

Cat just started laughing.

"That young man must really love you." She said. "Men just don't learn how to cook for just "anybody."

"Really?" Elizabeth looked at her, with delight and excitement.

Cat smiled, looking at her. She had had her doubts about Elizabeth's ability to be a good teacher when she first arrived in Coal Valley but since then those doubts had been laid to rest and buried a long time ago. Elizabeth clearly loved the children and the children loved her. And it was clear to Cat and to the other women in the town that Elizabeth was dedicated to making the lives of their young ones better.

They really couldn't ask for a better teacher.

And Cat was delighted that Constable Thornton had taken such an interest in their teacher. When they first met, Cat distinctly remembered them butting heads, a bit like cats and dogs. And it was delightful to see Jack's awkward attempts to win her over (which, unfortunately often backfired.)

Cat chuckled when she remembered the story Abigail had told her of the deer and the skunk and the bear. _Oh, Constable Thornton_, she had thought then, _you have so much to learn about women – and so much to learn about this particular one_.

"Really." She replied. "If a woman is important to them, a man will do what he can to learn what she likes and try to impress her that way. Constable Thornton knows how much you enjoy Abigail's cooking so clearly he thinks the way to your heart is through your stomach."

Elizabeth giggled. "He's not too far off. I do enjoy good food. I could eat buckets of Abigail's biscuits. Just ask her – I think I ate a hundred when Rosemary first arrived in Coal Valley."

Cat laughed. "Yes, I know how addictive her biscuits are." She then took a gentle nibble of one of Jack's biscuits. "These really ARE quite good...I wonder who has been teaching him..."

"Knowing Jack," Elizabeth said, "that is a mystery that we may never solve."

1I am not a cook – the recipe Jack used comes from this site: /vintage-buttermilk-biscuits-recipe/


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23: _A Sense of Hope_

"_Hope is in the air."- Abigail_

"_That…and a little coal dust."-Jack_

_-_When Calls the Heart, Episode 12

**Disclaimer**: _I own none of these characters. I make no profit from these scribbling._

The delicious smell of freshly-baked biscuits woke Abigail from a very sound slumber. She had desperately needed the rest after a night of being woken up every couple of hours to ensure she hadn't slipped into a coma. By the way the light was hitting her comforter, the time must be at least 6:30 or 7 in the morning.

And who caused that magical odor?

She got out of bed slowly and gingerly. The bruises from her ordeal a couple nights ago had not faded much and some were deep and uncomfortable. This morning she felt more like sixty-one, rather than forty-one. She gingerly began to brush her hair, wincing with each moment.

That was the funny thing about getting older. Your body was much less quick to recover from injury. When you were in your twenties, bruises would be gone the day after an injury. Once you hit thirty and then forty, bruising lingered for a week or more. _That's one of the things I detest about getting older_, Abigail thought, _no longer being a spring chicken._

She got dressed as quickly as her bruises would allow, gently putting on a dab of lavender perfume that Noah had bought her years ago. And she was just beginning to put her hair up in her usual chignon when there was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" she responded.

"It's Cat," a voice said, "may I come in?"

"Of course, of course," Abigail said warmly. Ever since their discussion, the unspoken tension that had been between the two women had dissipated.

Cat came in with a breakfast tray. Abigail could smell the aroma of her favorite chamomile-lavender tea and she spotted a plate of warm biscuits, next to a pad of butter and a little jar of honey. Someone had also thoughtfully put a flower in a vase to brighten up the tray.

"You didn't have to do that," Abigail said, smiling, "I was planning on coming downstairs this morning."

"You can come downstairs for lunch." Cat smiled in response, "Abigail Stanton, you know you still need to take things easy." 

"Going downstairs won't hurt me," Abigail protested, "since it's just a walk down the stairs."

Cat wasn't going to hear a word of protest. "How about you come downstairs for lunch instead," she said, putting the breakfast tray down on the small table near Abigail's bed, "that way you can get some more rest. I see how slowly you're moving this morning." She added, looking at Abigail sharply.

Abigail smiled ruefully, "I'm not as young as I used to be."

"None of us are," Cat laughed, "which is why _we need to take it easy when we get hurt_."

"My goodness," Abigail laughed, appreciating her friend's care, "you really are Mama Bear today."

"That's right." Cat said, "Mama Bear comes out when certain people are not necessarily following orders." She gave Abigail a knowing look.

"All-right!" Abigail lifted up her hands, "You win! I'll stay up here this morning and rest. _But_," she mockingly glared at her friend, "I _am_ coming down for lunch."

Cat grinned, "I have no objection to that."

Abigail sat down at the table, "I have to ask – who made these biscuits? Dare I eat them? They look too beautiful to eat."

"Constable Thornton made them." Cat smiled.

"Jack made _these_?!" Abigail looked incredulous, "Why, he had to ask me to cook the food for the first supper he shared with Elizabeth!"

"I've been told," Cat sat down, "that he has been _practicing_."

"Well, my gosh," Abigail said, "that young man is head over heels in love with our Miss Thatcher."

"Abigail," Cat laughed, "you and I (and many others) have known this for a long time. I mean, gracious, our children even know!"

"Cat Montgomery, you know little pitchers have big ears," Abigail smiled, "this shouldn't be news to you."

"I keep forgetting how much they pick up." Cat shook her head.

"Insatiable curiosity plus wanting to be included in everything is a pretty deadly mixture in a child." Abigail smiled, "I remember that well." A momentary look of pain crossed her lovely face.

Cat put down her tea cup gently and reached for her friend's hand, "Abigail, are you sure you are doing all-right?"

Abigail smiled back at her reassuringly, "Oh, I am doing much better, truly. It's the memories, you know. They are still coming back and every once in a while the memory returning is a painful one."

Cat looked at her with sympathy, "I know that well. Not a day goes by that I don't remember my husband, although you know he was far from perfect."

"It's just difficult," Abigail said slowly, "being forced to relive the worst day of your life all over again."

"But," Cat pointed out, "there has been some good to balance that out, no?" And she smiled knowingly.

"Yes," Abigail smiled, "there is always hope in the darkness. Like walking in the forest – sometimes the path has twists and turns and sometimes a lot of obstacles. But there's always that little beautiful lady-slipper or wild rose blooming as a reminder that beauty and goodness are there. You just need to know how to look."

"You're quite the poet."

"I guess good things in life just bring out my poetic side." Abigail smiled.

"'Good things'? Or could it be that a _good man_ is bringing out your poetic side?" Cat teased.

"Bill has a lot to do with my life being good, I will admit that." Abigail smiled, "But my life is good also because of you, and Florence, and Elizabeth, and all my friends in Coal Valley."

"You really are a dear friend," Cat said, "and a better one than I deserve."

Abigail looked at her steadily, "Catherine Montgomery, I thought we were done with flogging ourselves with unnecessary guilt." A faint smile twitched at her lips.

Cat blushed. "I just feel very badly…"

Abigail touched Cat's hand, "I know. But I forgive you and God forgives you. If He can forgive you, why can't you forgive yourself?"

"You're so right, Abigail." Cat said firmly, "I speak the word of God every Sunday and yet – as I've said before – I fall short so many times."

"We all do. Now," Abigail said, changing the subject, "tell me about these biscuits. How did our Jack have time to make these?" 

"Well, apparently," Cat smiled, "he wanted to make sure Elizabeth was 'safe' this morning since I wasn't here yet. Don't worry; he was only here about thirty minutes before I arrived. Elizabeth had been having trouble with her biscuits…."

"Poor Elizabeth," Abigail chuckled, "she does try so hard. She _is_ getting better."

"Abigail Stanton, you are a terrible liar." Cat eyed her.

"So I've been told in the past." Abigail chuckled again.

"Well, Elizabeth made a right mess of her biscuits so Jack offered to show her how to make a good biscuit." Cat smiled. "And being the chivalrous Mountie that he is, he actually did so."

Abigail took a quick bite. "These are _really_ quite good."

"They're delicious." Cat agreed. "I think he must have been practicing _very, very_ hard."

"Well, I think it's sweet." Abigail said. "Those two are really dear souls."

"It seems forever since I've been that young." Cat said wistfully.

"I think those of us who have lost our loved ones all feel that way," Abigail said, "but love has a funny way of keeping us young."

"Yes, it does," Cat said, "I hope someday I also can get a second chance."

"I've absolutely no doubt that you will." Abigail said firmly. "That's the wonderful thing about Coal Valley; surprises and second chances pop up where you least expect."

Cat finished her tea and set her cup down. "I'll let you finish your meal and then rest. I'll be back to fetch the tray later."

"Don't forget…"Abigail reminded her.

"I know, I know…you'll be down for lunch." Cat smiled. "Rest now, you look a little tired."

And Cat didn't say this out loud but she was concerned about the circles under Abigail's eyes and the bruises that were healing slower than she had thought they would.  
"I will certainly do that," Abigail smiled wearily, "I'm not as young as I used to be and I still am feeling it."

"A concussion will certainly do that to you." Cat said. "Neither of us are spring chickens. I reckon it'd take me near on two weeks to get over a blow like that."

"Two weeks?!" Abigail said in horror, "I surely hope it won't take me that long to recover. I can't keep the café closed too long. Henry Gowen…"

"Don't worry about that Henry Gowen," Cat said firmly, "I have a slight feeling that he is going to be having some worries of his own that will prevent him from fussin' over some lost profits. And if he starts in after you…I know how to fetch Bill Avery and that Judge Black."

She gave Abigail a smile as she walked out the door. 


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24: _Hope & Coal Dust_

Bill awoke to the sight of brilliant sun streaming into his room. He got up quickly, not wanting to spend too much time in bed. Today was a big day.

He had spent some time the night before examining the contents of his forensic kit. As much as he thought Richardson was on the up and up, he wanted to make sure the evidence he had collected at the mine was intact. Luckily, Ethan was as good as his word; nothing had been disturbed. Everything he had collected while he was at the site near the blast was still in there.

Bill had also spent some time reviewing the documents that Richardson had given him. The Pinkerton had been right; it was pretty damning material. Among the documents were copies of letters that Gowen had sent Stanton. Bill was a bit stunned by this, keeping copies of letters like this seemed like an extraordinarily foolish thing for Gowen to have done.

Maybe he hadn't counted on being caught. Arrogance did tend to run in men like Henry Gowen and this certainly wouldn't be the first time a man like Gowen got trapped in the web of his own conceit. But still, Bill was very surprised.

Gowen's responses to Stanton's concerns about the mine were typical, full of platitudes like: _don't concern yourself with mine conditions, everything is fine. _Despite Stanton's insistence that things were getting dangerously unstable due to the methane levels, Gowen still refused to listen. And when Noah actually got angry and threatened to tell someone else, Gowen told him very bluntly that he didn't take kindly to being threatened and that Stanton should mind his own business.

Bill remembered a strong surge of anger in his heart when he read the lines _...and, Stanton, I would strongly suggest you remember the family that you have at home. What would your wife and son do without your income from working in the mine? _Noah didn't back down. _Not having an income would not matter if I was dead_, Stanton had penned prophetically. _When it comes down to choosing between life and money – life matters more to me. So you don't frighten me, Henry Gowen. And __**neither do your goons**__._

It was interesting to Bill that Noah had penned that last line. _Had_ Gowen's goons actually paid Stanton a visit? Had they pulled him aside and warned him to stop? Richardson hadn't mentioned anything like that to him – but maybe he hadn't been part of that. He had mentioned that there were things that Gowen had kept from him. Maybe that was part of it.

_Gowen has to be stopped_, Bill thought furiously, _he is no different than the man who was the cause of Mary and John's death. These letters prove that Gowen KNEW that there were concerns about the mine and yet he did nothing. The evidence collected from the mine __**proves**__ that Noah Stanton was right about his concerns. The combination of the documentation and the evidence from the forensic kit will damn Henry Gowen. There's no way Jedidiah Black can ignore this._

Bill looked out of the window and assessed the time. He had now less than twenty-four hours left of the time extended to him and Jack by Judge Black. Knowing Jedidiah as he did, Bill knew the judge would probably be growing impatient by this time. And Bill knew he had enough to pin Gowen and put him behind bars.

But, first, he needed to make sure the evidence was put in a safe spot. The trial itself would not start until the following day – that was a bit of time for things to go wrong. And if Bill had learned _anything _from his time in Coal Valley, it was that things went missing often... and usually at very inopportune times.

He shaved, quickly got dressed, and went down to grab a quick bite at the saloon. He didn't want to disturb Abigail this early in the morning, considering that she still was recovering and needed her rest. But, oh how he wanted to see her. Just the thought of seeing her later made his heart lighter. _Careful, Avery_, he cautioned himself, _it's still very early in this courtship. Don't ruin it by acting like a schoolboy.  
_

He rubbed his hand, still getting used to not wearing his ring. Oh, he had been wearing it less and less over the past year – and even less while in Coal Valley – but it still felt a little odd after wearing it for over twenty years. It had been part of his life for so long that it had begun to feel like part of him.

But that chapter of his life was finished and a new one was beginning to be written. After his visit and talk with Abigail, Bill now felt a sense of peace and contentment that he had not had since Mary's death. He hadn't realized until he had met a kindred spirit in Abigail what had been missing in his life, faith, hope, and love.

He had grown deeply cynical of the last of those three virtues in the years following the loss of his family. _People don't simply just get second chances_, he would think. _They just don't. _And, in his hubris, he continued living his life closed off from the human race until he made the fortunate step of walking into Abigail's cafe.

He smiled. He really couldn't wait to see her again.

"Mornin', Inspector," the barkeep greeted him. "What it'll be for you t'day?"

"Eggs and cornbread if you have them, thanks." Bill told him and quickly looked around the room. Thankfully, Jedidiah was still in bed – possibly from a late night of card-playing. That might have been a bit awkward.

"They'll be ready shortly. If you just want to take a seat, then." The barkeep indicated a table close to the bar and away from the classroom where school was fixing to get started in about an hour.

Bill didn't have long to wait. The eggs and cornbread came quickly – probably due to the fact that the miners had all eaten earlier and gotten to the mine bright and early in the morning. The food was decent here. Of course, it had nothing on Abigail's cooking but very few places did. Her food was truly exceptional.

The door to the saloon entered and in walked Elizabeth Thatcher, ready to start another day. She looked around the room quickly to see if any of her young charges had arrived early and started a bit in surprise as her gaze met Bill's.

"Good morning, Inspector Avery." she greeted politely.

"Good morning, Miss Thatcher," he responded, "it's shaping up to be a beautiful day, isn't it?"

Elizabeth gave him one of her blindingly beautiful smiles. Bill definitely understood why his young friend was so taken. Miss Thatcher was a stunningly lovely young lady. "It is indeed, Inspector. And I hope it continues to be so."

Bill wiped his mouth of any crumbs, got up and quickly walked over to her. "I know you're getting ready to teach so I won't keep you long. But how is Mrs. Stanton fairing this morning?"

Elizabeth smiled in understanding, "She's tired, still, but recovering steadily, I think."

Bill looked at her keenly. "I'm glad to hear it. What does Mrs. Montgomery think?"

Elizabeth chose her words carefully – no use in creating additional worry where there didn't need to be. "Cat seems to think that Abigail isn't recovering as quickly as she could be. It's hard for me to tell because I have not spent a lot of time with her recently. Cat takes care of her and I am working with the children, on their homework, and on lesson plans."

Bill frowned. "She seemed well enough yesterday."

Elizabeth hastened to reassure him, "Oh, yes, she was. I think it's just been such a stressful time – between her injuries, worrying about the cafe, that she's not been resting as much as she could."

Bill seemed deep in thought and for a moment Elizabeth thought he had forgotten she was even there. "Inspector," she reminded him gently, "I'm sorry, but I really need to be finishing up lessons for today."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, breaking out of his momentary lapse. "I'm sorry to keep you, Miss Thatcher. I hope you have a successful day with the children."

She smiled at him softly. "Every day is a successful day with them. They're really a treasure."

"Coal Valley is fortunate to have you." He told her, "Constable Thornton has told me nothing but good stories about your work with your charges."

She blushed. "Thank you – but they are really God's gift to me."

Bill reached for his hat and smiled, "Well said. Have a good day, Miss Thatcher."

"And you as well, Inspector." Elizabeth responded with a smile. "Abigail will be all-right – she's a strong woman."

"Thank you for those reassurances." He smiled back and walked out the door.

_He really is a good man_, Elizabeth thought as she turned back to her work – her mind instantly going to her children.

Bill strolled out the door, forensic kit and documents in hand. Coal Valley was already bustling and he saw several of the widows bringing their children to the saloon for school. He smiled as he passed some of them and walked to the jail.

He knocked quickly on the door as he entered.

"Inspector," Jack greeted him, Rip closely at his heels, "good to see you this morning. What can I do to help?"

"Right now," Bill said, "I want to see if we can find a safe place for these until the trial. I do not want to run the risk of these being lost or someone attacking me again and stealing them."

Jack looked around the jail. "There's a safe hidden over here. It's not large enough to hold the forensic kit but it can hold the documents."

"It doesn't need to hold the entire kit," Bill pointed out, "simply the evidence samples."

Jack went over to a safe, cleverly concealed near the cell and unlocked it. "Put them in here," he said, "this safe is practically impenetrable."

"Thanks, Jack." Bill said, "I'm grateful for your help."

"It's I who am grateful to you. I would not have been able to carry this investigation through without your help."

"Well, it _is_ what I do." Bill grinned, "But I'm glad I can assist."

Jack looked at him seriously. "Did you have a chance to examine the documents more thoroughly?"

"I did," Bill responded, looking grave, "and they're damning, Jack. Combined with the evidence collected at the mine, Henry Gowen is going to be fortunate if he avoids hanging." 

Jack frowned, "The evidence is _that_ conclusive?"

Bill nodded, "It is." He then explained to Jack about the Stanton/Gowen correspondence. Jack's face whitened with anger.

"That man," he gritted his teeth in reference to Gowen, "has _a lot_ to answer for."

"And, trust me," Bill told his friend, "the day of reckoning is coming and he won't be able to avoid it. But we need to keep this information safe. It is critical that nothing goes missing or is tampered with."

"You can depend on it being safe here." Jack said. "Not many people know about this safe and no one except for me knows about the combination."

"How did you get that, by the way?" Bill asked, curiously.

"Believe it or not," Jack said, in exasperation. "It was written on an old piece of paper in the desk drawer. Needless to say, I put that piece of paper in the safe."

"Let's just hope you don't get a blow to the head anytime soon." Bill said.

Jack simply grinned.

"Well, if you need me for anything," Bill told him, "I'll be visiting with Abigail for a while later and then writing my notes for the trial."

"I'll be in touch," Jack promised.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25: _When Calls the Dance - Part One _

Cat Montgomery finished cleaning the dishes from breakfast and put them away in the hand-hewn cabinet that Noah had built for Abigail. She wiped her hair out of her face and surveyed the now immaculate kitchen.

Jack had done well with the biscuits and hadn't made _too_ much of a mess but there still had been things to clean up. And now it was nearly time to start making lunch. Cat was grateful that the café was still closed and that she didn't have to cook food for scores of hungry townspeople and miners. _What should I cook for lunch?_ She thought. _As delicious as those biscuits are, it's simply not healthy to have them three meals a day. _She spent a moment in thought, pondering what type of meal she could prepare.

"Knock, knock," a gentle voice interrupted her thoughts.

She had been so deep in contemplation that she hadn't even noticed anyone opening the door to the café. Startled, she stepped back in haste, bumping into the table in the kitchen.

"I apologize for startling you." Inspector Avery greeted her, a smile crossing his handsome face.

"Don't worry about it," Cat smiled apologetically, "I wasn't paying attention. How can I help you, Inspector?"

"Is Abigail awake?" He asked.

"I believe she's still resting." Cat told him, "I told her to stay in bed until lunch."

"How is her recovery going?" Bill asked.

Cat decided to be frank with him – since Abigail was clearly dear to him and she valued her friend's high opinion of the man. Plus, he had rescued Abigail from a terrible situation – probably saved her life – and that fact alone had lifted Bill up in her opinion.

"Not as well I as could hope." Cat admitted. "I know it's only been a couple of days but she seems listless, not resting well. Granted, I needed to make sure she wasn't in a coma that first evening so whatever sleep she got was broken but she simply doesn't seem to be sleeping well." Bill frowned.

"I don't blame you," Cat said hastily, "you're not the cause of her lack of sleep. And neither am I. But some of those bruises were deep. They'll take time to heal; especially since she's not as young as she used to be."

"None of us are." Bill said, somewhat ruefully. "Aging is both a blessing and a curse."

"A curse definitely in this case." Cat said. "What can I do for you?"

"I would like to take her on a picnic." Bill said. "But given what you've said about her condition, do you think that would be wise? I defer to your expert opinion."

"Hardly expert," Cat laughed, "but I don't see the harm in her going out for an hour or two, just as long as she doesn't exert too much energy. There's a small lake not too far from the town which would be just perfect. It isn't near too many hills so the walk would be easy on Abigail. She's been "stuck" in here – for lack of a better word – during her recovery so some fresh air would probably do her good."

"I think I recall passing the lake in my travels around Coal Valley." Bill reflected. "That might not be a bad idea to take her there."

"She should be up shortly." Cat said. "Would you like me to pack some food for the two of you?"

"That would be most gracious of you." Bill said. "But do let me know how I can assist you."

"You could best assist me by probably staying out of the way." Cat chuckled. "I work best when it's just me in the kitchen. Habit, I suppose."

Bill smiled, "I definitely understand. Just as Abigail isn't much of a doctor, so I am not much of a cook." 

"What's your preference for food, then?" Cat asked, taking out ingredients.

"I don't have fancy tastes," Bill said, "I would much rather you make something that Abigail would enjoy."

"I have some ideas." Cat smiled. "I'll try to make them easy for you to carry. Nothing too elaborate."

She took out eggs, potatoes, and bread crumbs and put some butter to the side. She quickly mashed the potato with salt and pepper, added eggs she had beaten well and rolled the mixture into cylinders. She then rolled them in an egg that she had beaten with a tablespoon of water. She then lit up the stove and let the griddle heat up, while she rolled the cylinders in the bread crumbs. To add more flavor, she sprinkled in some basil and rosemary and fried the cylinders in the griddle.1

"Those look delicious," Bill said, "what are they?"

"Potato croquettes." Cat responded. "They're pretty easy to make and I know Abigail loves them. I also have some gingerbread that I made yesterday and I can make you some beans. And I'm fairly sure there are a couple of apples that are still good." 

"I really appreciate your efforts, Mrs. Montgomery." Bill said seriously. "It's very kind of you to go out of your way to help both Abigail and myself." 

"No need for thanks." Cat said. "Abigail is one of my dearest friends. I consider it an honor and privilege to return to her what she has done for me. Just be careful with her heart. She's been through enough."

"Abigail's very luck to have so many loyal friends." Bill observed. "True friends are rare to find in this world and even harder to keep."

"Indeed you're right." Cat said. "Let me prepare you my own special lemonade." She gave him a quick smile and bent to look under one of the counters. "Ah, yes...Abigail has a basket here."

"I'm assuming you forgot about the picnic basket?" She smiled at Bill, with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

For once, the very self-assured Mountie looked a bit flustered.

"The only excuse I can give," he said, "was that this was an impulse. When I was coming over here to visit, I hadn't planned on asking her to go on a picnic." His face turned a light red in embarrassment. "It was...a last minute decision."

Cat looked at him. "I understand." She looked at him thoughtfully.

Suddenly, the both heard footsteps and Abigail came into the kitchen.

"Bill!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Good afternoon, Abigail." He greeted her with a smile that transformed his face.

_He really was a very handsome man_, Cat thought to herself. _And a good one. Abigail is very fortunate. _

"Abigail, I came to ask you on a picnic with me. We don't have to go if you're not up to it. We could simply have a bite to eat here."

"No," she said in delight, "that actually sounds wonderful. I've been cooped up here the last couple of days and I would very much like to get some sun."

"Bill helped me prepare some food," Cat interrupted, somewhat startling Bill who hadn't helped at all. "He's very good at this, Abigail."

Abigail smiled mischievously. "Oh, yes, he's helped me before."

The two women exchanged a knowing look, to the slight discomfiture of the Inspector.

"Yes, well, should we be on our way then?" Bill asked hastily.

"Let me finish the lemonade," Cat smiled, taking pity on Bill, who was suddenly as awkward as Jack was when he had first started trying to woo Elizabeth.

Abigail smiled at Bill. "How has your morning been?"

"It's been productive. I saw Miss Thatcher at breakfast and got some business done with Constable Thornton." His eyes scanned her face, noting the circles underneath her eyes and the tired, pinched look.

"I trust it was fruitful." Abigail said, hope in her eyes.

"It was. More than you know." Bill told her, understanding what she was asking. He was glad to see a look of relief in her eyes and the easing of the tightness in her expression.

Cat finished preparing the lemonade and put the closed-top pitcher in the basket. "There," she handed it to Bill, "I'm sure you can handle carrying this for the short trip to the lake."

"Of course." He said. "Once again, I'm very grateful to you, Mrs. Montgomery, for everything."

Cat nodded in understanding, getting the unspoken message.

"Enjoy your afternoon," she said, "Abigail, please don't overdo it."

"You have my word," Abigail said, "I don't have the strength to overdo it."

With those words, she and Bill walked out of the cafe and in the direction of the lake nestled outside of the town. 

1Recipe taken from The Worcester Family Cookbook on open library . org


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26: _When Calls the Dance_ – _Part II_

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything. Anything at all.

_Will you love me in the December as you do in May?_

_Will you love me in the good old-fashioned way?_

_When my hair has turned all gray_

_Will you kiss me then and say, _

_That you love me in December as you do in May?_

The autumn day was bright and clear. And the weather was not too cold. Abigail always had loved the feel of sunlight on her face and the smell of coal dust. Many people might call her odd but she had grown to love the smell of coal dust in the air. To her, whenever she smelled that particular scent, it reminded her of hope.

She held on to Bill's arm gratefully. As they had stepped out the door to take their walk down to the lake, he had immediately offered it to her, holding onto the basket with his other arm. Abigail shook her head slightly.

"Are you up to this?" Bill asked her, in concern.

"Oh yes," she said emphatically, "I was just a little dizzy. Nothing that you should worry about."

He looked at her seriously. "Abigail, if you feel at all unwell, please tell me and we can turn around and simply eat at the café."

Abigail smiled, "I'm grateful for your concern, Bill. I know my own limits and I really have had enough of being stuck in doors."

"That I do understand." Bill laughed and patted her hand resting on his arm. "Please lean on me as often as you need." He gave her a boyish grin.

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Abigail smiled, "I'll definitely take advantage of that offer."

"You understand that offer stands even when you don't "need" me at all." Bill told her seriously.

"You're sweet." Abigail smiled, blushing a little.

"You bring it out in me, I suppose." Bill said. "There are moments when I've said something about you that Jack looks at me as if I have two heads."

"You talk about me to Jack?" She asked in surprise.

"Not really." He said. "I say one or two things about how special you are and how much I enjoy it when you fuss over me." He grinned again.

Now Abigail's face was really pink. And it wasn't from the sun.

"Thank you," was all she could bring herself to say. All of a sudden, she felt a little awkward. It had been so long since she had been courted by a man; she had almost forgotten what it felt like. _So this is what Elizabeth must feel like_, she thought, having a new sympathy for her friend.

Bill, seeing her mild embarrassment, wisely chose to keep silent and strolled slowly besides her, making sure that he wasn't going too quickly.

"What made you want to become a Mountie?" Abigail asked.

"I was honestly tired of hearing about all the evil in the world." Bill replied. "In addition, my grandfather had been a Mountie himself. Ever since I was young, I have had a very strong desire to defend those who are too weak to defend themselves or those who have had wrong done to them. I think it was because I was raised by my grandfather and grandmother – my parents died when I was young."

"I'm so sorry to hear that." Abigail said, in soft sympathy.

"It was a long time ago." Bill said quietly, his eyes pained.

Abigail stopped briefly.

"Are you all-right?" Bill asked quickly.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. You've had so much pain and loss in your life." she said quietly. "How do you handle it all?"

"I handle it because I have to handle it." Bill admitted. "I had wonderful and loving grandparents who taught me that living in the past would only hurt me. Unfortunately, I didn't always follow their advice when I was younger."

"Noah told me that he wanted me to move on and find happiness again if anything ever happened to him." Abigail admitted quietly. "That was not an easy thing to talk about."

"I don't think any of us ever want to talk about what would happen if one of us died." Bill said. "Mary and I never really had many formal discussions about that."

Abigail strolled next to him in silence, leaning into him.

"We're almost there," Bill said, "can you make it?"

"Yes," Abigail said, "I'm really not tired yet. It's such a lovely day – being indoors for the past couple of days makes me really appreciate being outdoors."

"Coal Valley really is a lovely little town." Bill said.

"I've grown to love it dearly." Abigail responded. "I didn't always love it. It took me a while to get adjusted when Noah and I settled here. Being in a new place always takes some adjustment."

"I agree with you there. I moved around a lot with my job. It wasn't always easy on my wife. She liked the stability of staying in one place."

"I have to admit that I like that too." Abigail confessed. "Being on the road all the time, from one place to another... I'm not sure that would suit me. I have friends here now." 

Bill stopped walking and turned to her. "I would never make you leave your home or your friends, Abigail."

She looked at him with concern in her eyes. "But your job, your friends. What about them? I know you love what you do."

"Abigail," Bill said gently, "let's wait until we're seated to discuss this. We're there."

She smiled, "Of course."

They had arrived at a beautiful little clearing near the lake where Elizabeth and Jack had taken their picnic. Abigail smiled to herself as she remembered Elizabeth telling her about the spider and jumping into Jack's arms.

She smiled to herself as she remembered what she had told her rather embarrassed young friend, "_Oh, Elizabeth_, _I can't really blame you for jumping into his arms. He's a handsome young man." _She stifled a laugh as she remembered her friend looking rather indignant. "_It was an accident and the spider...startled me_."

Ah yes, those scary spiders. Abigail chuckled at the memory.

"How about we sit here?" Bill pointed at a spot underneath a willow tree.

"Perfect," Abigail said. Bill reached within the rather large basket and removed a thin blanket.

Abigail sat herself on the blanket, leaning back against the tree. She closed her eyes briefly.

"Tired?" Bill asked softly.

"Just enjoying the day. It's so beautiful out here." Abigail said, relishing the feel of the afternoon sun on her face.

"Agreed," Bill said, sitting in front of her. "Should we have some lemonade?"

"That sounds wonderful." Abigail held out one of the cups as Bill poured some of Cat's homemade lemonade.

"This is delicious." Bill said, "A rather unique combination – lavender and rosemary, isn't it?"

"Yes," Abigail said, "Cat makes a rather unique lemonade. She's quite popular for it."

Bill sipped his lemonade in silence while trying to figure out the right words to say.

"As I was saying back while we were walking...I would never make you leave your home and your family. Abigail, I'm not a young man anymore. I'm getting older and life on the road alone has less and less appeal. When I was younger, traveling around the country was more exciting. While my wife liked the stability of being in one place, she was always willing to pack up and move with me when needed.

But that was a different chapter of my life – one that I feel has come to a close. And it's time for me to begin a new chapter – a new part of my life. A part that I hope has you as a permanent part of it."

Abigail looked at him, rather wide eyed.

"I'm not meaning to move too quickly with you," Bill reassured her, "we can take as much time as you need. I don't want to push you but at the same time I don't want to leave you with any misconceptions about my intentions. As I told you the other night, I want to be with you."

Abigail was touched. "I won't lie," she said, "my loss is still recent and I still miss Noah dearly. But as you have said – as we both have told each other – we both deserve second chances. The more I get to know you, the more I realize you are an honorable and good man – a man whose courtship I welcome sincerely. But I don't love you yet."

"Thank you for your honesty." Bill said. "I wasn't expecting you to confess to your love for me – that would be too soon. But I do think we should grab happiness where we can find it."

"Let me ask you, then," Abigail said, "what do you see in your future?"

"I see myself settling down in one place with someone _with whom I can share my thoughts.** _I'm too old to be continuing this nomad life._"_ He gestured towards the open road.  
"It's not fulfilling anymore." Abigail said understandingly.

"No," he said softly, "it's not. I just want to come home to someone." He looked at her intently.

She quietly picked at some of the food spread out on the cloth.

"What happens when this trial is over?" she asked softly. "Do you go back to your assignment?"

"I will have to discuss that with my superiors." Bill said. "I've been a Mountie for twenty-seven years. It's time for me to retire."

"Won't you miss that?" Abigail asked.

"Of course." He said. "I've been a Mountie for over half my life. Doing what I do has been painful at times but there are moments when it is rewarding. Being able to close mines with unsafe work conditions; put criminals behind bars and help victims get justice – that's a wonderful thing. But the life does take a toll on you.

The loss of my wife and child was unfortunately the price I paid for this life. And it was too high. I've served my country faithfully and for longer than many men have. It's time to start a new part of my life."

She smiled at Bill and touched his hand.

He looked at her, his blue eyes soft within his craggy face.

He took her hand and put his lips to it, holding it close to his face. She looked at him sweetly and didn't turn away.

And for a moment, all was still. The noise of the crickets and bird chirping faded away into the background and the mountain air gently touched around them. Even nature didn't want to disturb this moment.

"You need to eat," he said quietly.

"You need to give me back my hand." She laughed lightly.

"My sincere apologies." He smiled at her, releasing her hand.

"None needed." She reached into the basket for an apple. "My goodness, I am very hungry."

"Must be the mountain air." Bill said. "I've been extremely hungry since I've gotten here. Or maybe I'm just constantly hungry for your food."  
"You flatterer." Abigail blushed.

"I tell only the truth." He smiled.

They ate their meal in silence, both of them looking out on the lake, the sun making it sparkle like a sea of diamonds. And Abigail felt a deep peace and contentment; peace she had not felt in a long time.

After a long time of enjoying the food and the quiet, Abigail finally touched her lips one more time with her napkin and leaned back against the tree.

"Cat outdid herself today."

"She did indeed," Bill agreed, "she probably could open up her own cafe. But not competing with yours, of course." He smiled at Abigail.

He swiftly picked up the remnants of their meal, shook out the cloth, and folded it into the basket.

Abigail got to her feet and swayed slightly.

"I think I may need some more time to rest." She smiled a bit faintly.

"I shouldn't have taxed you this much so quickly." Bill was quick to blame himself.

"It's all-right, Bill," she touched his hand quickly. "It's probably just a bit too much sun. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Lean on me." Bill said, putting one of his arms around her waist.

She leaned against him, gathering her strength and found herself to be so comfortable that she didn't want to move. She closed her eyes and leaned into him. 

"What are you singing?" she said, when she caught Bill humming under his breath.

"Oh, it's an old American love song," he said. "Written five years ago."

_**You say the glow on my cheek, sweetheart, **_

_**Is like the rose so sweet, **_

_**But when the bloom of fair youth has flown, **_

_**Then will our lips still meet? **_

_**When life's setting sun fades away, dear, **_

_**And all is said and done, **_

_**Will your arms still entwine and caress me, **_

_**Will our hearts beat as one?**_

Will you love me in the December as you do in May

_**Will you love me in the good old fashioned way?**_

_**When my hair has turned all gray,**_

_**Will you kiss me then and say,**_

_**That you love me in December as you do in May?1**_

"It's lovely," she said, and moved away from him slightly. "I feel stronger now."

He held her hand, "Are you strong enough for a dance with me?"

"There's no music," Abigail pointed out very practically.

"Nature's music is good enough." Bill smiled.

"Why, Bill Avery, I never knew you to be _such_ a romantic." Abigail teased.

"Like I told you before, you bring it out in me." He grinned and held her hand tighter.

"All-right, you may have this dance." Abigail smiled up at him softly.

And as the birds chirped softly and the crickets sang their song, Bill and Abigail waltzed slowly near the bank of the lake.

And Abigail Stanton was beaming.

__

1Song entitled _Will You Love Me in December As You Do in May – _words by J. J Walker, music by Ernest Ball. 1905


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 28: _The Joy of the Children1_

_Author's note_: **Please excuse any inaccuracy in the teaching scene. All major mistakes (as always) are mine. And if Emily Montgomery really is too young for school, please forgive that too. For this story's sake, I'm allowing her to attend class with the others. **

Elizabeth Thatcher wiped off the chalkboard. She had dismissed the children for lunch and now was planning the next lesson for the afternoon. Definitely not mathematics – not the right thing to teach them right after lunch when their food was making them a bit drowsy. She bit her lip in thought.

"Miss Thatcher?" A tiny voice got her attention.

"Emily!" She greeted the little girl. "What can I do for you?"

"When's my mama goin' to come home?" The little girl looked up at Elizabeth, a plaintive look in her eyes.

"When Mrs. Abigail is feeling a little better." Elizabeth said, looking at her with sympathetically.

Emily Montgomery sat down in a chair near Elizabeth.

"What's wrong with her?" She asked curiously.

"Well, she's been a little sick." Elizabeth told her.

"With what?" Vague answers were not satisfying to a child with insatiable curiosity.

Elizabeth struggled to find answers that would satisfy her curiosity without revealing too much.

"She bumped her head pretty hard." Elizabeth said.

"That doesn't make you sick." Emily pointed out. "Colds make you sick. Influenza makes you sick."

"That's true," Elizabeth said, "but sometimes when somebody hits their head hard, it can also make them sick."

"How?" Emily asked.

_Explaining a concussion. I don't think teaching manuals ever covered this part, _Elizabeth thought to herself as she searched for the right words.

"Well, the brain is the part of the body that tells us what to do. It is in charge of your body and tells you how to walk, how to eat, how to sleep. Different parts of the brain are in charge of different things." Elizabeth told Emily, tapping on her own head. "When something hits your head, that can cause the brain to act differently."

Emily looked like she was beginning to understand.

"Very good questions, Emily." Elizabeth said. "I think I will talk about the brain after you all finish your lunch."

"I already finished mine." Emily grinned.

"Well, then," Elizabeth smiled back, "you can go to your desk and wait for the others. Miss Thatcher needs a bite to eat!"

Emily gave her a big hug.

Elizabeth's heart melted.

How she loved these children. Every day they always managed to teach her something. Ever since she had arrived in Coal Valley, she felt so blessed.

She reached into her lunch sack and pulled out one of Jack's biscuits. _I could eat more than ten of these_, she thought. _These are simply delicious. _She reached for a tiny pot of jam and took a big bite. _Oh, so delicious. _Before she knew it, she had eaten all five of the biscuits she had packed for herself.

_Oh, dear_, she thought, _I really can't keep eating like this. If he keeps on cooking like this, I won't be able to fit into any of my clothes!_

She quickly finished eating and cleaned her desk as the children filed back into the saloon.

"Good afternoon, children," Elizabeth smiled. "Someone had some very interesting questions for me around lunch time so I have decided that we are going to talk about the brain this afternoon."

She was happy to see a genuine look of interest on most of the children's faces. Oh, how she loved them. They were such good-hearted and wonderful souls – most of them full of an unquenchable curiosity and desire to learn. Elizabeth was determined to foster that desire of learning.

They might not ever leave Coal Valley – but she intended to foster within all of them the desire to know more about the world around them. A love of knowledge was such a gift – and so rewarding. Elizabeth wished she had more students with the same quick mind as Wyatt Weaver – but she was determined to help all her students cultivate a desire for learning. Not all children can be geniuses but she wanted them all to want to learn.

"The brain itself is actually made up of different parts," Elizabeth told them. "I am going to be talking about two of those parts today."

"There are more than two?" asked Gem.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, "there are _five_ parts. But we'll only talk about two today."

"Have you ever wondered," she continued, "how you are able to do mathematics, figure out problems, and draw pictures? When you do those things, you are using your _cerebrum_ – that is the part of the brain that controls how you do those things.

The interesting thing is that the cerebrum has two parts – a left part and a right part. Some say that the left part is more analytical and the right part is more creative."

"So when I'm drawing a picture, I'm using the right part of my brain?" asked Gabe Montgomery.  
"That's correct, Gabe," Elizabeth said, "the right side of the cerebrum helps you think about things like color, and shapes, and music. The left side of the cerebrum helps you with analytical problems – like math and science."

"How does it do that?" asked Emily

"The brain gets lots of messages from your senses." Elizabeth told her. "And what the brain does is _interpret_ those messages."

Emily looked thoroughly confused.

"For example," Elizabeth said patiently, "sometimes when someone speaks a different language than you or I, somebody else who knows both English and that other language is needed to help two people talk to one another."

"So the brain makes the messages that our senses pick up understandable?" Beau asked.

"Exactly. Very well said." Elizabeth smiled at him. "The brain collects and stores all this information and figures out what to do with it."

She waited a moment to let her students process that information.

"Now, there's another part of the brain that's important too – the _cerebellum_." She told them. "That controls things like your balance, standing up and other things. It handles your coordination."

One of the children promptly fell out of their chair.

Elizabeth tried to repress a smile – and failed.

"Sometimes when something bad happens to your brain, it can affect the rest of your body." She continued.

"Like when you get a bump on the head?" Emily spoke up eagerly, eager to show off her knowledge. 

"Right!" Elizabeth gave her a beaming smile and Emily sat up straight with pride.

"Sometimes when you get a really hard knock on the head, that can affect your brain, because your brain will hit your skull. That is why someone who has been hit very hard on the head may need lots of recovery time. Some people get permanent damage."

She looked at the sober faces of the children, all of whom had heard about Abigail by this time.

"However," she said, smiling cheerfully at them, "medicine has come a _long_ way so we know how to handle brain and head injuries better."

"Now," she added, "if there aren't any further questions – we'll go on to other subjects."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me, _

_Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee; _

_Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day, _

_Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away! _

_Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song, _

_List while I woo thee with soft melody; _

_Gone are the cares of life's busy throng, _

_Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me! _

_Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!_

_(_Song by Stephen Foster – 1864)

Abigail and Bill entered the cafe and Abigail quickly sat down. The afternoon had been wonderful but she had overestimated her energy.

Bill looked at her with concern. "Let me get you something to drink."

She smiled at him wanly. "That would be greatly appreciated."

He went into the kitchen and quickly got a cup of water.

Abigail smiled gratefully when he handed it to her. "Thank you for a wonderful afternoon," she said softly, "I had a wonderful time."

"I did too," he sat down in front of her, "I wish it hadn't sapped your strength."

"Oh, I always try to do too much." she laughed. "It used to drive Noah crazy."

"I can't imagine you ever being headstrong or stubborn." Bill said, straight-faced.

Abigail gave him a _do you know me at all_ look and he laughed.

"You don't need to stay with me. Cat should be back soon. I will probably just go upstairs and rest."

"That might not be the best idea..." Bill started to say. 

"I can do it." Abigail said firmly. "I''ll be perfectly fine."

She started to stand up, but her legs were rather weak and she had to sit down again.

"You were telling me about not being headstrong?" Bill grinned.

"Oh, all-right, I was fibbing." She smiled back, tiredly.

"Let me help you upstairs." He said seriously.

"You don't have to do that..." she started to say

"Abigail Stanton," he said firmly but kindly, "don't be stubborn." 

She smiled wearily. "I am rather too tired to argue so all-right."

He put a strong arm around her waist and helped her to the stairs.

They both walked up the stairs and he opened the door for her.

"Thank you, Bill," she said gratefully, "that was very kind of you. For everything."

"It was my pleasure," he said softly, "as always."

He held her hand gently in his and raised it to his lips.

"Until later?" he said questioningly, touching her face gently.

"Until later," she smiled, leaning into his kind embrace.

_Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea, _

_Mermaids are chanting the wild lorelei; _

_Over the streamlet vapors are borne, _

_Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn. _

_Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart, _

_E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea; _

_Then will all clouds of sorrow depart, _

_Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me! _

_Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!_

1Expression taken from the book 'Christy' – Catherine Marshall


	28. Chapter 28

_Chapter 28 (the real one this time): _Journal Entries 

Abigail took out the weathered brown book that was in her nightstand. Since Noah's death, she had been writing letters to Noah in it regularly. She found that it helped the healing process for her. Although he couldn't respond, she felt like she really was having a conversation with him.

Elizabeth had told the grieving children: "_all our loved ones we lost are watching over us. Just as God is. We can feel them all around us - their love, their guidance. And that's not going to change.**" _And Abigail completely agreed with her. As devastating as the loss of Peter and Noah had been, she knew that she would see them again and that they never would be far from her thoughts.

She picked up a pen and started writing.

_Dear Noah,_

_I've met someone..._

She tapped her chin thoughtfully with the pen. It was harder than she thought putting those words to paper. Although Noah had long since given her permission to move on, there was always going to be a part of her that felt guilty for doing so.

She continued writing.

_I've met someone. You'd like him, Noah. He's intelligent and passionate in getting justice for you and all the miners who died in that explosion. I haven't known him very long but we've spent a considerable amount of time together. And the other night, he saved my life._

I don't remember much about what happened the night I was abducted but I do remember his kindness...his gentleness... and they tell me he found me and brought me back to Coal Valley. I trust him, Noah. Maybe for some people in Coal Valley, this may seem like a hasty courtship but I look at Mary and Mr. Graves and they are happy.  


_He's a good man who cares for her and Caleb. And if she can find someone to make her happy so soon...why can't it happen to me? You and I talked about this, dearest, and you said that it was all-right for me to move on if anything happened to you._

I miss you every day. I'll never forget the time we had together; I think about you and Peter often and what life must be like where you are. Do you think of me? Of us? Of the time we had as a family? I can't tell you enough how grateful I am that you were a part of my life for as long as you were.

Anyways, Bill Avery is a good man. He's an inspector with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He came at the behest of Constable Thornton who sent him the file I had, well, borrowed from Henry Gowen. Gowen has tried to smear your name in unimaginable ways – but I have confidence that Bill will find the evidence to clear your name.

He's good that way – he won't stop until justice is done. 

_Remember how you would often call me headstrong in that joking and loving way? Well, Bill says the same thing about me but the funny thing is – he's far more headstrong than I am! The man got himself beaten by hired thugs of Henry Gowen and then a day or so later is out rescuing me and continuing with his investigation. He takes headstrong to a whole different level – but in a good way._

He's a man of integrity and honor who believes that everyone should be held accountable to the law, regardless of the people they know and how much money they have. I have faith that Gowen will be held responsible for the deaths of those men and that Bill will find the evidence needed to put him behind bars for good.

_You would be proud. Several times he has reminded me of you – in the way he treats others especially. There's just such a kindness and thoughtfulness about him... I'm getting carried away._

She paused for a moment, smiling softly and then continued.

_Noah, I will never forget you. I promise that. But I have struggled so much in the past months since you and Peter died. I had become unsure of my purpose in life. But Elizabeth and Bill have opened my eyes and made me realize that there is still so much I can do to help others, even though I am no longer a mother._

I thought my purpose in life had died with you and Peter.

But it hasn't. 

_Please pray for me, for Bill, and for this town. We so desperately need closure and Gowen needs to answer for what he allowed to happen to you and the other men who died in the mine._

I will always love you. I hope you realize that. 

She closed the book and put her pen down. Somehow, even though she couldn't hear the sound of Noah's voice in her ear, she could feel it in her heart. And Abigail knew he was pleased. 

_That Jack Thornton, _Elizabeth wrote in her journal, _is an interesting man. I never knew he could bake as well as he did. I ate about 11 of his biscuits today. Really, if I continue eating them, I will not fit into any of the clothes I brought out here...but that's really besides the point._

Sometimes teaching can be difficult. Today was challenging, trying to answer Emily's questions. Nothing that I learned back at home ever prepared me to answer some of their questions. There are times when I feel that I know nothing at all. Socrates said he considered himself wise since he knew that he knew nothing.

_My gosh, I must be the wisest of all, then. There are days where I feel like I know absolutely nothing at all and I have no idea how to answer some of their questions._

Teaching these children is so rewarding. But the more that I teach them, the more I realize there's still so much I still need to learn myself. And not all of this knowledge can be found in my textbooks. That's perhaps one of the biggest lessons I've learned out here – that not everything can be found in the pages of a book.

Coal Valley has taught me so many lessons about myself and about life. While I miss my home and my family, I realize that coming here has made me grow in areas that I would have never realized I needed growth in. These families may not have very much in the ways of material goods but they have everything that matters most, faith, hope, love, loyalty.

It seems to me that the richest of us could learn so much from them. If only every one in the world could have a chance to visit Coal Valley and experience the life here, they would find their eyes opened to a whole different world, a world rich in the values that matter most. A world all of us should experience.

I am so blessed to call this my home.


End file.
